Weapon of Mass Destruction
by SFriend
Summary: One and a half months after Chris Redfield returns from his mission in Africa, his little sister, Claire, packs her bags and intends to go to the very same place. She joins TerraSave in order to help with the cause, but what horrors await her there?
1. Chapter 1:Prologue

_I obviously don't own anything of capcom's, and definitely not something as wonderful as resident evil. _

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><p>Chapter 1: Prologue<p>

Gently, Chris Redfield slowly eased his way out from under the weight of his comrade's head. He looked at Jill as he did so, and noticed her eyes clench in unconscious disapproval. It had only been a month since Chris had rescued Jill from his enemies grasp in this world's personal hell-hole.

Africa.

Maybe it wasn't that bad, but then again, it certainly seems as if he'd gone through hell and back. He could only slightly imagine how the woman lying next to him felt about it.

Chris lifted himself off the couch slowly, taking Jill by the shoulders so that he could lay her head down softly. Before laying her down, he smoothly pushed a throw pillow under her head, and proceeded to take the blanket off the back of the couch and let it fall over her body. Once the warmth of the blanket enveloped her, she snuggled her face closer into it.

As corny and mushy as it sounds, she was beautiful. At least that's what Chris thought as he stared at his sleeping comrade. They had been through a lot together. First it had been S.T.A.R.S., then the Spencer mansion in the Arklay Mountains, the BSAA and lastly Africa. He could remember clearly the night they landed in the woods engrossing the Spencer mansion. Where it all started…They had been called to explore recent reports of a cannibalistic cult that had committed multiple accounts of grisly murders. He remembered sharing an office with all his fellow team mates, Jill's organized desk directly in front of his own disheveled one, when his Captain, Albert Wesker, emerged from his office.

_ "Listen up," Captain Wesker commanded, crossing his arms over his chest. "As I'm sure you all may know. There have been recent reports of grisly murders in the Arklay Mountain region on the outskirts of Raccoon City. Many of these murders have occurred in public parks, and the assailants have even invaded homes in the region, killing entire families." Some of the S.T.A.R.S. nodded in understanding, you'd have to be born yesterday to have no knowledge of this. "I have obtained valuable information and orders to deploy my men to further investigate the site of suspicion, which spans seven miles into the vast expanse of Raccoon forest." he said coolly. He turned and walked toward the blackboard, erased the humorous doodles (done by Chris and Brad earlier that day, in efforts to entertain the bored S.T.A.R.S.), and then set out to write down some important details in sharp quick letters._

_1st Unit Bravo_

_2nd Unit Alpha_

_He continued to jot down a few more things and began his instruction, "Bravo team will be deployed in a chopper and will scan the forest and Arklay Mountains from an aerial perspective. I've been ordered that my men are to pinpoint this problem as soon as possible. Not knowing what to expect, they will be armed with sufficient amounts of ammunition and supplies. _If _it should occur that something goes amiss, S.T.A.R.S. Alpha and I will aid in back up. I have doubts that it will come to that-" _

_ Clearing his throat, Brad, the Alpha teams chopper pilot, began hesitantly, "Captain, isn't this mission a little lax for a special tactics team…" Wesker turned from the board slightly and glared ominously at Brad through his dark sunglasses._

_ "How so?" Wesker visibly fumed, angry that the hot-shot had the nerve to interrupt him, and suggest what he had._

_ "I uh, I- I mean, can't the local R.P.D. take care of something like this?" his voice faltering. He continued, "Aren't S.T.A.R.S. for matters of crisis?"_

_ Wesker put down the white chalk he had been writing with, wiped his fingerless gloved hands on his pants, and slowly walked towards Brad's desk, making Brad regret what he said just as soon as he had said it. He placed his hands spread flat on Brad's desk and leaned toward him, coming only inches from his face. "And do you care to explain to me, and my fellow officers, why you interrupted me?" Wesker growled. It was more of a statement than a question. _

_ "And furthermore, why seven people dead isn't a crisis to you?" The room was deadly quiet, Chris felt rather uncomfortable and he saw Jill shift in her seat. He knew and liked his captain (_at the time_) but he knew never to get on his bad side. He couldn't help but feel bad for Brad, the poor guy, and really wished he had kept his damn mouth closed before he cost them all a week's worth of paper work and laps around the track. _

_ Brad stared up into Wesker's sunglasses, his mouth working, while nothing but a few strained sounds came out. Wesker raised an eyebrow at the man waiting for a response. "Well?"_

_ When Brad failed to answer, Wesker finally let the man off the hook, walked back to the black board and resumed the details of the mission. Chris knew it wasn't the end of it, when they got back; Brad was in for it…_

Chris' memory faded as he heard Jill stir and saw her move out of the corner of his eye. Truthfully, he couldn't remember much of what happened after that, from that moment on it was a blur. The next thing he knew, they were in the chopper on their way to Arklay because they'd lost contact with the Bravo team. And later, as a result of the betrayal of their trusted captain, every S.T.A.R.S. member was dead (save for Chris, Jill, Barry Burton, and Rebecca Chambers).

"Wesker…" he sighed. His old captain had always been intimidating, but always had a soft spot for his team, no matter how irritated he became with them. At least that's how it seemed at the time to Chris. Chris couldn't believe back then that he would have betrayed everyone and even worse, become the tyrannical megalomaniac that he was. _Was, _Chris thought.

Chris let out a sigh, and his brow furrowed. Well it was over now, Wesker was dead, and could never harm another innocent person again. Chris knew this himself, because he and his partner at the time, Sheva Alomar, had been the ones to end his constant reign of terror.

He looked over at Jill, and released his scowl. She looked so peaceful, but at the same time she had a different ambiance about her.

Recently, although she was clearly the same Jill from before, it also seemed as if she were a completely different person. Chris noticed an increase in a kind of shadow that always lay dormant within Jill; he gathered that it was perhaps a remnant of her memories of the time she spent with Wesker. Although Jill had yet to say much about her three years in Africa, Chris always noticed when Jill went into these sort of black out modes, where her eyes would go out of focus and her mind would wonder off to faraway places. He doubted she was pondering on what to make for dinner.

The fact that she wouldn't tell him anything about it didn't hurt his feelings. In fact, he wasn't expecting to hear much of it any time soon, whatever had happened to her had obviously been traumatizing, and he was okay with the fact that she would only tell him in her own good time. Chris just hoped that when the time came, that it wouldn't be a result of post-traumatic stress, which in turn would probably cause her to finally break.

It was hard to believe that after all they had been through; that the last was what caused her to almost lose it. Now that they were out of Africa, she had been staying with Chris and his little sister, Claire, in order to cope better. At first when he offered, she had refused, saying she didn't want to be of any trouble to him or Claire. But, with the persistence that only a Redfield could maintain, he and Claire eventually got her to submit to their insistence, and she had been with them ever since. Presently, he couldn't say he didn't enjoy the company.

Chris went to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. Although only a month and a half had passed since his mission in Africa, he was already back on duty and had to leave rather early today. He looked down the hallway toward his little sister Claire's bedroom. Her door was slightly ajar, and he could hear faint voices coming from the TV. No doubt she had fallen asleep while watching it, she usually did. He loved his sister dearly, they were each other's only family left in the world, and he would do anything for her. Yes, perhaps he was over protective at times, but that's what you do when you love someone. That's probably why his panties got in a bunch when she told him of her plans, which harrowingly started tomorrow.

_"Chris, now don't be mad at me." she said confidently, staring into her brothers hazel eyes. _

_ "How am I NOT supposed to be upset, Claire? I just got back from that god forsaken place, and it's the last place I want to send my baby sister!" He yelled._

_ "You're not sending me anywhere Chris, I decided to go on my own." she said hotly._

_ "Claire…"_

_ "I'm going and that's final! I'm a grown woman, Chris. And I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself!"_

So there it was, his baby sister was going to Africa for the cause. Teaming up with TerraSave again in an effort to restore peace and help with whatever she could after the devastation that occurred there. He knew she had good intentions, and that she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself, but after what had happened to him and Jill in Africa… Chris felt a sinking feeling in his stomach just thinking about it. He knew she had survived many horrors on her own, the Raccoon City outbreak, Rockfort Island, and the Arctic facility. Nevertheless, he was reluctant to let the person he loved the most in the world go there.

He took down a mug from the cupboard and placed it on top of the counter, taking the coffee pot he poured the black drink into the mug. After adding some sugar and cream, he brought it to his mouth and inhaled…_If she wants to, let her go. After all, once a Redfield makes up their mind, there's no changing it._ He stood in thought, pondering this, wondering if this was the best way to look at it. After some thought he agreed that it was, and finally turned the mug up and let the warm liquid slide down his throat. He then headed upstairs to get ready for work, thinking that the most he could do for his little sister was be there when she departed.

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><p><em>Okay, so how is it? I know it's a prologue and somewhat boring, but dear readers must give me time to develop the story (which is very developed in my mind). Don't worry, this is a ClairexWesker story, but it will also contain more characters from the series in it to make it more interesting and so it wont completely revolve around two characters.<br>_

_Anyway, I have more of the story already written, I just need to proof read before I upload, so more chapters can be expected very soon. ^.^_


	2. Chapter 2: It's a Date

Chapter1: It's a Date

Claire lay between her comforters dreaming good dreams. When she awoke, she couldn't quite remember what they were about, other than the fact that Leon Kennedy had been present in them. Not wanting to open her eyes and let the dream completely fade away, she kept them closed and let the nice thoughts linger a little while longer. She soon realized that this was a failed attempt as the TV she had left on inevitably distracted these dreams and made her forget them instantly, causing the dream to scatter like whispers in the wind.

Shifting in her covers, she opened one eye and squinted at the alarm clock. _Oh great, I have nothing to do and I still wake up somewhat early. _It was 7:30 am and she knew her brother Chris had left thirty minutes ago for work. She lay there for a few more minutes before finally deciding to get up and not waste the day away any longer.

Claire threw her legs over the edge of the bed, and quickly regretted it as a cold chill raced across her bare skin. Now she had two options, either to remain in bed snuggled up in a heap of covers, or to tough it out and take a shower. Claire decided it would be a great morning for a nice warm shower.

Going into the hallway, she opened up the closet where they kept their bathroom towels and wash cloths, and grabbed a towel big enough to cover her whole body. Turning the knob on the shower she adjusted it to the hot temperature she liked and after shedding her pajamas she stepped into the shower, welcoming the warming sensation it brought to her.

While lathering the sweet smelling shampoo into her hair she recalled the person she had been dreaming about. Six months had passed since she last saw her survival partner, Leon. She desperately wanted to see him again and thought that today would be as good as any, seeing as how she was leaving for Africa tomorrow morning.

Claire shut off the shower and stood there to let some of the excess water run off of her into the drain before stepping out and wrapping the towel snugly around her steaming body. Going into her room, chill bumps rose up on her legs like goose flesh from the cool draft of the hallway. _Oh great, just my luck after I get done shaving,_ she thought as she closed her bedroom door and went to sit on her bed. She grabbed her cell phone, deciding she would give Mr. Kennedy a ring to see if he was busy today. Pressing the talk button, she then realized that he may still be sleeping at this hour. The phone rang twice in her ear when she heard the drowsy, and somewhat annoyed Leon answer.

"Leon."

"Did I wake you?" Claire asked teasingly, hoping that he would realize it was her.

Surely enough, he did. " Well if it isn't my favorite rambunctious Redfield," he teased back. She heard movement on his side, as if he were sitting up.

"You still haven't answered my question."

"Oh, uh no, I'm awake. Maybe just awake, but I'm awake. What's up?"

She thought about how to ask and then continued. "I was wondering if you were busy today. If not, maybe you'd like to take me out to lunch before I disembark on my incredible journey?" Although she hadn't spoken to him in a while, she figured he had already found out about her volunteering to go to Africa for TerraSave, seeing as how he worked for the government and remained in contact with the same, ever expanding anti bioterrorism agency that her brother worked for, BSAA.

Leon let out a sigh on the receiving end. "Oh yeah Africa, right? Let me think about it. Either I can spend today watching TV while drinking a few not-so-cold beers alone, or I can go out on a date with my secret crush." He didn't speak for a while, and Claire thought she had either lost connection or he had fallen back asleep.

"Leon?"

"I choose the later," he burst out, causing Claire to jump slightly. After Claire had recovered, she ensued with warm laughter.

"So, around twelve?" She asked hopefully.

"I'll pick you up around twelve."

"It's a date!" She happily replied. With that they hung up and Claire got dressed in dark jeans with a dark red V-neck, threw her hair up in her signature ponytail, and went downstairs to make a small breakfast.

When Claire opened her door, a wave of deliciousness hit her senses, and her mouth began to water from the aroma of bacon. She made her way down the hall; the sun had risen higher into the sky and was seeping through the window blinds, making thin white lines on the wall. Entering the kitchen she found Jill at the stove making breakfast. Jill looked up from frying bacon and produced a warm smile for Claire, who in turn did the same to her.

"Good morning, Claire. Sleep well?" Claire went to the fridge, not sure if Jill was making food for them both or just herself. "Oh no, I'm making breakfast, you just sit and let me enjoy your company!" Jill said, answering Claire's internal question.

"Sure," Claire complied and sat at the table. "By the way, I did sleep well. How 'bout yourself?" Jill stole a glance at Claire, and saw the wide smile on her face. Whatever it was, she must have dreamed of something pleasant.

"Ah, I slept rather well," she mused. "Of course Chris kept me company."

"Oh?" Claire questioned Jill, with something suggestive in her tone.

"Oh please, Claire, don't sound so suggestive! Nothing went on between me and your brother, he just comforted me. And don't worry, his snoring wasn't so bad." They both shared laughter at the mockery of Claire's older brother.

Claire got up from her seat and grabbed two plates from the cupboard, figuring if she couldn't help with cooking, she could at least make herself useful and set the table for her and Jill. Jill brought over the food and they sat to fill their plates with scrambled eggs, bacon, and biscuits-and-gravy. Jill really was a great cook, and Claire was glad to have her around. It sure did beat having takeout or her and her brothers failed attempts at cooking. Claire wasn't a bad cook, but she often got side tracked and burned the food beyond saving. Chris, on the other hand, couldn't cook worth shit.

"So, are you ready to go to Africa?" Jill asked looking up from her food and into Claire's cerulean blue eyes. Even though it was brief, Claire saw a shadow pass over Jill's eyes. Whatever the memory had been, she covered it up well with her nearly flawless, pretense smile.

Claire shrugged her shoulders. "Sure, I have all my bags packs, and I'm going to get everything else in the morning." She continued with her future plans for the day, trying to change the subject so that Jill wouldn't be left brooding over her concealed thoughts. "I'm going out for lunch with Leon later, I'm really excited to see him, it's been months." She finished, and shoved her last bite of eggs into her mouth. Jill giggled at the way the girl before her ate; she had too much influence from her brother in that aspect.

"That's really great Claire, tell him I said hello."

"Of course." Claire replied.

Once they had finished eating, they both aided in cleaning up and doing the dishes, standing side by side and gossiping over what little they had to gossip about. It relieved Claire to have someone else around the house; it was nice to have another woman to talk to. She often found it difficult to talk to Chris about certain things. Little did she know, Jill felt the same way about Claire, she really enjoyed living with the Redfield's, it beat living in her house all alone without a soul around to console her…

The hours passed by rather quickly, Jill and Claire sat in the living room watching TV and talking each others heads off. Laughing and making jokes about Chris. When Claire looked at the time it was just a few minutes before twelve, and Leon would be there any minute. He always arrived precisely on time. It probably had to do with his present and past occupations. Claire made her way to the downstairs bathroom to freshen up, and just in time because when she returned to the living room there was a knock at the door. She headed for the front door and grabbed her cream colored leather jacket off the coat rack on her way out.

**********************Jill

She stood with her arms crossed just below her chest gazing out the back window of the living room. Claire had left nearly an hour ago to go on her date with Leon Kennedy, and Jill was unaware of how long she'd been standing there, clouded eyes fixated on the birdbath in the Redfield's backyard, lost in thoughts she'd be better off forgetting.

No one knew, especially not Claire and Chris, just how often she reflected on her time spent in the hands of Albert Wesker. Little did Claire know, that despite her efforts to elude Jill's mind away from Africa, it had been on her mind all day, and progressively increased since she was alone.

There was something about the birdbath. The base was a woman clothed in elegant flowing cloth draped over her body like a sheet, she was holding up the bowl of the bath with strong arms, it rested slightly in-between her neck and shoulder. Yes, there was something _very_ familiar about the birdbath. She recalled it in more than one place. First, she saw a similar statue in the Spencer Mansion, and instead of the woman holding a bowl, she was holding a ceramic pot. Jill explicitly recalled her time in the Mansion when she had to crawl up onto a chest of drawers to reach a document from the ceramic pot, which turned out to be a map of the interior of the mansion. She later saw a similar statue, if not the same, in the gardens at the small lab Wesker held her at for a short period of time. _That's why I could barely remember it there, I was in recovery_…her thoughts trailed off, and she hugged herself tightly as a shiver coursed through her body, and played chillingly on her spine.

Jill sighed deeply, her vision changed focus from the birdbath to her own reflection in the window. _What's wrong with me?_ She thought, and turned to go back to the couch and watch TV. Before she could reach the couch, her eye caught a glint of something laying on the book case. When she turned to look, she saw a familiar picture. It was the group picture the S.T.A.R.S. unit had taken the year of the Arklay and Raccoon incident. Jill picked up the framed photograph and smiled in reminiscence while scanning over the faces of friends so long ago. She gazed over Chris's and her own face, they looked so happy, not yet haunted by the ghosts they now faced daily. They were, completely content. Her eyes remained on her figure for a while and then went on across the photograph, stopping on one lone figure with a ghost of a smile lingering on his face.

"Wesker…" she whispered, tears welling in her eyes.

***********************Claire

"So, where do you wanna eat?" asked Leon, glancing over at Claire.

She turned to look at him, admiring his profile and watched as the muscles in his forearms tightened as he turned the wheel. She hadn't really thought about it, but then quickly made up her mind and thought of a perfect place they could go to share lunch.

"Hmm, how about we go to Meryl's Café?"

"Sounds like a plan."

Luckily, Meryl's wasn't too far. Leon turned on the radio, and they made their way to the café while drumming their fingers and singing along with a song they both knew and enjoyed.

Pulling his jeep into a parking spot, Leon shut off the engine. Just when Claire was about to open the door, Leon reached over and grabbed her arm. She looked at him with a raised eyebrow, and saw a smirk playing on his lips. He then opened his door and raced around to her side. When he got around to the other side of the car, he opened it for Claire, holding his hand out like a goofy gentleman. Claire took his hand, and he let her use it to steady herself as she got out of the Jeep.

"Why thank you, Mr. Kennedy, but you know I'm perfectly capable of opening my own door," she smiled.

He gave a light laugh. "Well, it's the thought that counts." At that they both laughed.

They then proceeded to go into the café, Leon leading Claire with his hand on the small of her back. Normally Claire would have slapped someone's hand away, but she knew it was more like a protective habit to Leon, always guiding his objective to safety.

Once they entered the café, they quickly took a seat at a small window table with two chairs sitting across from each other. Claire half expected Leon to pull out her chair for her, but he didn't really want to overdo it and make it look as if he was trying too hard. Their waitress came over, ticket pad in hand, and took their orders, quickly leaving, allowing them some privacy before she came back.

"So what's new, Leon?"

Leon let out a sigh. "Well Clairie, a lot has happened since we last spoke. I got a raise, again, and I had to be the President's daughters personal body guard, again." he chuckled and continued. "I also have a new mission next week. After all that happened in Africa and the fall of Tricell, I've been ordered to work as a secret service agent for this guy named Rex A. Lewske. He works for the UN, but apparently he was once a double agent for organizations like Umbrella, while in reality he was really working for antiterrorism groups the whole time. Being in the work that he's in, it's no surprise that he finally ticked the wrong person off. It's guys like him that keep me employed."

"Interesting, you'll have to tell me about it when you—or I, get back."

"That's just it," he said. "Can you guess where this guy's scheduled to go for an undisclosed meeting with some top notch antiterrorism activists?" He asked quizzically.

Claire raised an eyebrow at him. "No, where?"

"What about you, Claire? Are you ready for Africa?" He asked, leaning back in his chair with a playful smile creeping around the corners of his lips.

That's when it clicked, "You sneaky bastard!" She responded jokingly. "Why didn't you tell me before?" Leon burst out laughing.

"This is exactly why! I wanted to surprise you. I did a pretty damn good job of it too." He continued laughing, and Claire fought the urge to kick him in the shin.

"You Jerk. You could've told me before now." She said, indignation playing on her nerves.

"Don't stay mad at me too long, you'll have to face me again in about a week."

"Really?" she chirped. "You're going to be in Kijuju?"

"Well, not the whole time. I should be there for a few days though. This guy wants to show his face around to the people," he pondered. "He's really a radical guy, Claire. Not only was he a double agent, but he was also a top 'agent' for umbrella, and from what I can gather, he's damn good at what he does. I haven't read his records extensively yet, but apparently he's a well-rounded guy, and often noted for his humble demeanor. Although, it could clearly be a front." Leon gazed down at his hand resting on the table.

"Leon, what is it?" Claire asked, staring hard at him.

Leon gave a sigh. "Truthfully, there's something just not quite right about him. Do you get what I mean? It sounds—"

"Too good to be true?" She finished, and Leon nodded in return. "Well, it's a good thing you were assigned to him, Leon. With your experience I'm sure you'll be able to tell if anything is amiss, and you'll know how to take proper action." She hadn't meant to sound so official.

"Yes, Ma'am!" Leon teased with a salute.

Their waitress arrived during this, and nonchalantly placed their drinks before them. They both expressed their thanks and waited for her to be gone before they continued.

"Well, hopefully this time there won't be some kind of crazy zombie outbreak." He sighed, leaning in to take a drink. Claire looked at Leon and smiled, thinking that they probably shouldn't take that statement so lightly, knowing their luck.

"I certainly hope not. We do have a knack for getting into those kinds of situations don't we." She stated rather than asked. They both laughed and Leon agreed with her. Their food was placed before them, and Leon and Claire ate between their conversations, gladly reminiscing with each other.

After finishing lunch, they decided before going back home that they would go for a walk in the park. It was a warm breezy afternoon in late august, a perfect day for walking and enjoying a friends company.

They came to the edge of the river and Claire rested her forearms on the cool, black railing separating the side walk and the ledge that lead to the water. Leon took the moment to admire her beauty, and wondered why he had never taken the time to do more things like this with her. But with his job and missions he really hadn't had the time. For as long as they'd known each other, their relationship status had always been 'just friends', which Claire's older brother, Chris, was determined to make sure it stayed that way.

"Claire?" She turned and looked over at him, the sun making her eyes shine a pristine blue.

"Yeah?"

"When you get back, how about we do this again sometime?" She smiled and closed her eyes with a nod.

"Yeah."

They remained there for about an hour, catching up and talking about work, when Leon's phone rang, interrupting their conversation.

"Leon." He answered. Claire eyed him, cursing whoever had called him on the other line. "I'm out with a friend." He turned to her apologetically and held up a finger, signaling that he would be back shortly. He walked off and continued on with his conversation on the phone.

Claire sighed and sulked slightly, but the feeling quickly diminished as she looked out across the blue-grey waters of the river. It really was peaceful here, and she began to realize that it would be missed once she was in Kijuju. From what she had heard from her brother, the Uroboros virus had left the entire region in chaos. Nevertheless, she was the one that volunteered to help restore it to a habitable level. The redhead had never truly seen the Uroboros in person, and was sure she didn't want to, but Claire couldn't help but wonder about the deadly virus and how it had affected the area.

"Uroboros…" she unknowingly spoke aloud.

"Uro-what's?" Leon asked, as he appeared by her side again. She turned to face him.

"Nothing really," she reassured. "Who was that?" Leon looked confused and quickly realized she was talking about the phone call.

"Oh. That was my boss. Although I'm on vacation he says he needs me to come in." He looked at her apologetically.

"Yeah, right. You're just going to see your other girlfriend." she teased. He eyed Claire with a mix of confusion and humor.

"_Other_ girlfriend?" he asked quizzically. Claire hadn't realized what she said until now.

"Oh, I didn't mean." She tried to explain, blood rushing to her cheeks.

"Uh-huh."

"Leon, shut up." She chortled, while shoving his shoulder.

"Anyway, it's about time we head back," he said, placing his hand on her shoulder. She gave him a nod and they made their way back to his jeep.

He dropped Claire off at the house she shared with Chris and Jill. While he pulled off they exchanged waves, and once he was out of sight, Claire turned and ventured into her cozy home to find Jill fast asleep.

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><p><em>Well, so here's a little bit more to help develop my story. I kind of had a hard time with this chapter (writing and revising). The next chapter will be a lot more interesting and Claire will finally be going to the place where things really start to happen.<em>

_Oh, and I'm sure maybe some of you are confused or pondering about Jill's little moment when she saw the old S.T.A.R.S. photograph. I'm not sure which direction I'll be taking, but we shall see all in good time. _

_One more thing, let's not forget that Umbrella has had many screw ups before, for example: they allowed Wesker to altogether cause their downfall, also Ada was romantically involved with a scientist named John, and she acquired information from Umbrella for the Organization. Who's to say there wasn't more than one double agent within Umbrella and other organizations of the like? Anyway, Mr. Lewske will be an important character as the story progresses.  
><em>

Until next time!


	3. Chapter 3: The Flight

Chapter 3: The Flight

To Claire's surprise it was almost four when she got home, she hadn't realized she'd been with Leon that long. How time really did fly when you were with someone you enjoyed being around. She removed her jacket and placed it on the coat rack, then headed into the living room to find Jill asleep on the couch, she figured she'd let her sleep and decided to go to her room to make last minute preparations for her trip to Africa. Chris would be home any minute, and she wanted to spend as much time as she could with the both of them before she departed. There was no telling how long it would be before she could see either one of them again and she felt she needed to take advantage of the time.

About thirty minutes later, she heard the jingling of keys and the front door open and close. Getting up from her bed she went into the kitchen seeing that Jill had awoken on his entering, and was sitting up rubbing the sleepy out of her eyes. Jill and Chris exchanged their 'Heys' and a warm smile, before Chris ran to his sister and swept her up in his arms, almost crushing her from his tight hug.

"Ouch! Baboon lips let me go!" She laughed and pounded on his chest.

"Oh I'm baboon lips now am I?" He said with a malicious grin. He then effortlessly slung her over his shoulder and let her hang down with her head a few feet from the ground. Jill got up and Clair saw her leaning in the doorway, witnessing their antics, with an amused grin on her face.

"Chris put me down!" Claire shrieked pounding at his legs. He then proceeded to spin her wildly and Jill watched laughing all the time.

"Jill, don't' just stand there, do something!" Claire pleaded, while holding onto Chris' leg for dear life.

"Okay Chris, cut it out," with those simple words, he complied and sat his now dizzy headed sister down on her feet.

"I was getting dizzy anyway," he said, acting as if that was the only reason he stopped.

"Dizzy my ass," Claire snorted.

They spent the rest of the night joking and watching a movie while they had dinner. Eventually Claire said her goodnights and headed off to bed, she had to wake up early in the morning tomorrow to catch her flight. Once her head hit her comfortable pillow she automatically fell into a dreamless sleep, only waking up a few hours later to her alarm clock blaring in her ears.

After Chris had insisted on helping her pack her two bags of luggage out to the jeep and Jill had expressed her goodbyes to Claire, Chris and Claire headed for the airport. Chris had to work that morning and needed to depart rather quickly, so they couldn't enjoy each others company long. Once they arrived at the airport and Chris had placed her bags in the luggage he grabbed his sister and embraced her before he had to leave.

"Behave yourself, Claire-bear, and stay out of trouble," she nodded into his massive chest.

"I will," she replied, trying to keep her water works from flowing, and with that, they departed. Claire was soon found sitting in her seat on the plane, her head resting against the window with the shade pulled down. She still had about 30 minutes before takeoff, and her eyes began to droop closed as she welcomed sleep once again.

_ Somewhere, under the intense African sun, something was fighting to survive. For an unknown amount of time it had been dormant, almost ceasing to exist all together. Knowing, seeing, and feeling noting. No knowledge or ability of continuation. It was just a memory. Was this death? Was this a dream? Or was this what it was like to simply exist and nothing more? Like a rock long forgotten laying at the bottom of a dark lake. A loud sound roared monstrously in the vast space above. What was it? The knowledge of the sound was almost certain, but it was too hard to understand it. _

_ A massive dark shadow passed overhead and that's when the sound broke out again and a sudden realization occurred. _

_Thunder._

_It then brought forth a rain so hard and delicious it was life itself. Water fell and hit the surface hard, a sizzling sound could be heard as it collided with something especially hot. That's when that void being began to fight once again for survival. Like a plant deprived of water, the substance absorbed it with a great thirst for life. _

_ It had to find something in order to survive, not knowing what it was but moving on natural instinct, others like it came together. Slowly but surely this creature was fighting for survival and by combining with the others like it and the surrounding elements, it began to regenerate into some unknown form. A large black mass formed on the barren wet earth below, not having any true form of its own, and then it began to feel something. _

_ This feeling, what was this feeling? _

_Pain._

_It was exactly what every being experienced while being brought into existence. The pain of birth. Atom by atom, molecule by molecule, this being began to structure into something familiar. When finally the process was complete, the being gasped harshly and took its first breath of air. _How it hurts to be birthed_, it thought, but not in words._

_ Slowly a black naked form got to its feet, in the distance it could see something gleaming in the unbearable light. Walking to this object on unstable limbs, the being bent forward and grasped the object in its shaking hands. Automatically, with an instinct like knowledge it brought the object and placed it over its eyes, seeing the world come into view. _

_ Ah, much better._

With a harsh gasp, Claire awoke to the sound of some kind of loud engine. For a moment she had forgotten where she was until she looked out the window, to which the lifting of her head had caused the blind to come up with a _ffflip_. Looking around, squinting from the bright light, _I could really use some sunglasses, _she was safe and sound on a plane about to disembark for Africa.

_Wait a minute, what did I just think about sungl…_Her thought trailed off as she recalled with horror what she had just been dreaming. In the thirty minutes she had been sleeping, her brain played the worst scenario it could play while her subconscious was at its most vulnerable. She had dreamed of none other than the revival of the tyrant, Albert Wesker. As many dreams are, Claire automatically knew it was the tyrant the whole time, although she didn't know how, but her mind insisted upon it. Someone cleared their throat sitting next to her, causing Claire to snap back into reality.

"Ma'am, are you alright?" Asked a concerned voice. Claire looked up to meet the concerned gaze of a middle aged blonde woman sitting next to her, with a rather trashy romance novel in hand. She followed her gaze and realized she was looking with concern at Claire's hands gripping the arms of her seat so hard her knuckles were white. Claire let out a sigh and eased her grip on the chair.

"I'm fine," Claire assured the woman with a smile. "I'm always a little jumpy when the plane takes off," she lied, from fear of embarrassment. She didn't want to confide in the woman and tell her that she had had a nightmare. It seemed rather childish to be so scared over such a thing.

_If you only knew, lady. Consider yourself lucky._

Luckily, Claire's explanation gave the woman some amount of reassurance; at least she wouldn't be worried that Claire was bananas or something.

"Oh, that's all," the woman chuckled. "Well, don't you worry about a thing, _dear heart_. It happens to all of us," She finished with a bright, careless smile. Claire felt the hairs all over her body stand on end, _what did she just call me?_ Replying with a rather hesitant 'yeah', Claire figured how the comment had made her feel must have been showing on her face, because the woman's smile quickly dissipated and she returned her attention to her romance novel.

Little did Claire know, the woman hadn't called her dear heart at all, she had left out the _dear _part altogether. The dream had just caused her mind to believe she had been called the long forgotten nickname given to her by the devil himself. Claire turned to focus her mind and stare out of the window, as they rose higher and higher, her mind went further and further.

The last time she heard that particular name was back on Rockfort Island. This was also the first place she had the luxury of meeting her brothers ex-captain, and she had absolutely no desire to meet him again. He forever haunted her dreams, causing many nights of restless sleep. Thinking of all those years since Raccoon City, Rockfort, and the fall of Umbrella, she had come really far.

After she and Chris got back home from Antarctica, he insisted on her enrollment into school. And because it sounded like such a good idea at the time in order to get her life on track, she enrolled immediately. Majoring in Criminal Justice really didn't come as a shock to anyone, but when she minored in biology, some would wonder why.

It wasn't because she was particularly good at biology, but after the Umbrella incident and all that had happened to her, she wanted to explore further into the basics of what Umbrella began with. Umbrella manipulated biotechnology, and utilized it to create the most deadly weapons known to man. She had no intention of going down the path that Umbrella continually followed. Instead, she studied biology in hopes to counteract that which Umbrella tried to accomplish. She wanted to have knowledge of what she was fighting against. While studying for this sole purpose only, she soon found herself liking, and even being good at the subject that had caused so much chaos in the world. Of course, her liking for the subject led her to branch out into other subjects such as virology, botany, herpetology, and histology.

After four years of constant study, excessive hours, countless dollars spent and commitment, she finally earned her Bachelor's degree in Criminal Justice and Biology.

This leads to her present situation.

Now she was employed by the United Nations in the economic and social council branch, and joined TerraSave in order to restore peace to the disheveled world. Surely they would find her of great value with her background knowledge in biology, criminal minds, and the fact that she was one of the few survivors of two T-Virus outbreaks. Although she wasn't sure of what her duties were to be to the relief group, she was certain that she would prove as a huge benefit.

Despite no desire to fall asleep, she began nodding off once again. Leaning her head on the glass window, she rapidly fell into a deep dreamless slumber.

Upon her waking, only a few more hours remained before the plane landed at the Kilimanjaro International Airport in Arusha. In the spare time, she ordered something to eat, read a pleasure book she had brought along with her, and made one trip to the restroom. The blond woman sitting next to her never made an attempt to so much as glance in Claire's direction, but Claire didn't blame her. There were some weird people in the world. If anyone knew _that_, it was Claire.

After placing her book back into her carry-on bag, Claire glanced out the window and saw a vast amount of land below. Seconds later, the intercom came on and the captain's thick Swahili-English accent carried throughout the plane.

"Ladies and Gentleman, we will be landing in Arusha in approximately ten minutes. Please remain seated and buckle your seat belts. We'd like to thank God, our staff and our passengers, for a safe and easy flight," the speakers buzzed off and everyone did as they were told. Just as the Captain had said, the plane began its decent and they landed in the city exactly ten minutes later.

Claire unbuckled her seat belt, grabbing her carry-on bag, and stepped out into the isle to get off the plane. As the few passengers getting off followed suit in a rather orderly fashion, the Captain expressed his mandatory thanks over the intercom for flying with Precision Air.

The moment the doors opened, the cabin was flooded with intense heat and humidity. Claire descended the stairs of the plane and her feet connected with the hot asphalt of the terminal. Making her way towards the undoubtedly air-conditioned building, she shielded her eyes from the blazing African sun, and hoped to find her personal airport transfer.

Apparently she was to be picked up by a fellow member of TerraSave, and from there the two would make their way to the Kijuju district, where Claire would be given her residence and God only knew what else. Claire entered through the automatic sliding doors and just as she presumed, a gush of cool air kissed her skin. She glanced around and her eyes found a tall dark African woman holding a sign that read '**REDFIELD**' in giant bold letters. Just like in the movies. Claire hoisted her bag up on her shoulder and made her way toward the African woman. As she approached a white, toothy smile spread across the black woman's face.

"Claire Redfield?" she asked, extending her hand for the blue eyed girl to shake.

"Yes, and you are?" Claire asked, taking the other woman's hand.

"Abena Rudo, ward manager at the Kijuju TerraSave relief hospital. It is very nice to meet you at last, Miss Redfield," Rudo smiled even wider, and cupped both of her warm hands around Claire's.

"Likewise," the redhead said with a sweet smile of her own.

"Shall we be going then," Rudo asked in her smooth Swahili accent. "The others are waiting and I can't leave my post for too long," Claire nodded and followed behind Abena. As they made their way to the front doors, passing the luggage pickup, Claire realized she'd almost forgotten to get her bags. Before she could say anything, Abena spoke first.

"Don't worry, Miss Redfield. Your luggage has already been transported to our vehicle."

"That's a relief," Claire sighed.

The women were soon in an old clunker pickup truck making their way to the Kijuju district. For most of the ride Claire simply gazed out the window, admiring and taking in the foreign beauty of the region. It wasn't entirely barren desert land like she'd thought it would be. Instead, there were random patches of healthy green shrubbery here and there, and in the distance she could even see a jungle. Still, it was surprising that anything could survive in this heat. Most of the roads weren't paved, including the one they rode on now, and dust flew wildly about and behind the truck.

"I must warn you, Miss Redfield," Abena spoke loudly over the wind. "The view may not be so pretty when we arrive in Kijuju. Nevertheless, it has improved considerably thanks to our efforts."

"I think I can handle it. By the way, you can call me Claire."

"And you can call me Abena," She replied joyously.

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><p><em>Hello everyone! Twice in one day! I'm on the ball. Haha, no actually I already had this much of the story pre-written, and I've been going over and revising and editing the last two chapters. Now, I'm sad to say, but it will be a while before I post again, not too long though (hopefully.)<br>_

_I really enjoyed this chapter, I felt it was more interesting than the previous two, and written better. Thanks for reading, dear readers, and if you have any suggestions have at it! _

p.s. Pleas review?


	4. Chapter 4: The Sick Man

**As of March 19, 2012, my story is undergoing surgery! I'm sorry if you receive notifications of updates, but I'm just going back and fixing a few mistakes I made because I wasn't aware of them until AFTER I beat Revelations. I don't want to SPOIL anything for you, but I have to fix these things. ****I am replacing Jessica Sherawat with Mera Biji, who is (so far) an exclusive character in the comic, and member of the North America branch in the BSAA and considered one of the best**

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><p><strong>Chapter 4: The Sick Man<strong>

*******************Chris

"Take a look at this, big guy," said a familiar voice from behind Chris, as a manila folder was slapped down in front of him. He looked up and met Mera Biji's countenance with a confused expression. "Courtesy of Dough Wright, sent strait form HQ." She smiled down at him and leaned with her backside against his desk.

Chris opened the file and began reading its one-page contents. As he read, he couldn't believe what it contained.

"Where did the Captain get this?" he asked Mera, but received his answer from yet another familiar voice.

"Say's someone sent it anonymously through the mail. Forensics already checked it for prints, said it was cleaner than a hound's tooth."

"Humph, Imagine that," Chris said, meeting the gaze of Jill's old partner, Parker Luciani. Parker had been transferred to North America only a few months ago. During and after the Kijuju outbreak, the States turned into a breeding ground for organizations and terrorist groups alike to buy, trade, and sell their B.O.W.'s on the black market. While Chris was busy in Africa bringing down Wesker and rescuing Jill, Parker was in the US investigating, and eventually desisting, a group involved with distributing black market B.O.W.'s. If there was one thing Chris was sure of, it's that he was glad to have someone like Parker Luciani on their side.

Chris returned his attention back to the document he held in his hands. _Tricell had ties to most these organizations? No way…_

"If this is real, Parker. Imagine how much we could accomplish with this list!" Luciani came over to Chris' desk and placed a hand flat on its surface.

"If this is real," Parker nodded towards the list. "I think we can count on being out of a job in the near future."

"Not necessarily," said Mera, "think about it. Who, with the right information and knowledge, would send us such an extensive list of possible B.O.W. producing and trafficking organizations?" she asked, while walking away towards the door.

"Someone who wants to be on top," Chris contemplated, "someone who needs all of these other organizations out of the way in order to do that."

"Exactly. There's always someone else to go chasing after in the long run." and with that, Mera left the two men to their selves, the door creaking shut behind her.

"She's right you know," Luciani said, looking down at Chris.

"Yeah," he sighed. "Although it pains me to _have_ to agree. We're going to need all the help we can get if we go on this, you know?" Parker nodded and examined his nails.

"By the way, how is that old partner of mine?"

"Jill? She's improving every day, slowly but surely." Chris knew this wasn't the complete truth, but from what he could see, Jill was improving compared to when they first came home.

But little did Chris know, Jill was back at home fighting her own demons. And if anyone could hear or see her, they'd think she was the exact opposite of improved.

*********************Claire

The old clunker pickup truck eased its way in front of a security gate. A guard came to the window and Abena flashed her ID card for him to see. He nodded and pressed the button, Abena advanced forward as the gate began to rise slowly. All the while, Claire gazed out the open window. Before they'd even reached the gate, Claire could see row after row of long white tents. Now that they were closer, she could easily read the blue lettering stamped on the side of the closest tent. **_Terra Save_.**

"These tents are like our makeshift hospital wings," said the dark woman. "We use what buildings that are left for medical supplies, showering purposes, and a few nurses quarters."

Claire nodded in understanding. Soon, the two women stopped in front of a two story house/business.

"And this is Doctor John Obilade's house," Said Abena, as she pointed towards the paint peeled building.

Abena got out of the truck and Claire followed in suit as they began to walk towards the office. "Come, first you must meet the Doctor, and then some of the other staff. Later we shall go to your residence. I assume he is in." They reached the door and Abena simply walked in.

In one corner, there were countless boxes stacked on-top of one another, all reading _**Terra Save**._ Other than that, the room was fairly plain, there was a desk, some file cabinets, and many chairs, and behind the desk in one of these chairs was a man in a white coat, reading a paper while drinking coffee. Upon their entering, the man put down his paper.

"_Yes?_" The man addressed Abena in their native tongue.

"Dr. Obilade," she continued in English, "I'd like to introduce our newest member, Claire Redfield."

"Ah, yes." He leaned forward with some interest. "Our American friend."

"It's very nice to meet you, Dr. Obilade." Claire said, while offering her hand to the doctor. Claire heard Abena intake air sharply. Obilade merely glanced at Claire's hand, and then got up from his seat.

"Yes, well. The same to you, Miss Redfield," he said, and began to head for the door. "But I really must be going, I have many patients to look after." He reached the door, but before he went out, he turned and said, "I hope that you enjoy your stay." And with that, Obilade left, the door closing loudly behind him.

Claire simply stood there, frozen; her once outstretched hand now lay limply at her side. _What was that all about?_

Abena saw the look on Claire's face, and felt the need to explain the doctors behavior to her. "Don't take it personal, Claire. He's a man of faith."

"A man of faith?" Claire asked, clearly confused.

"Ah, yes," said Abena, placing her hand on the redheads shoulder. "Dr. Obilade, along with many of the other people in this village, follows Shari Law. It's against the law for a man to shake a woman's hand in this religion." Now Claire understood perfectly, she didn't have to worry so much about the doctor giving her the cold shoulder.

After Claire and Abena left the office, Claire was introduced to many of the other staff and relief workers at the camp. Some spoke a little English, while others spoke none at all. Out of all the people she'd met today (too many to remember actually) they all seemed extremely nice and welcoming (aside from the doctor earlier that day), and she was beginning to actually feel that she'd made the right choice in going there. Of course it would take more getting used to before it would feel like home, and she doubted that it ever would, but so far, it was a nice start.

After Claire was introduced to her last acquaintance, _was it Soobe or Zoonte, _she couldn't remember, Abena told Claire it was time that she saw her residence so that the dark woman could get back to work. So once again, after a little difficulty of trying to start it, they were in the old pickup truck, but this time they were heading out of the encampment instead of in.

Not three miles down the road did Claire see what looked like an old iron, military-style medic truck parked off to the side. "What's going on?" She mumbled. As they got closer, Claire could see a man under the hood of the truck, working tediously, but obviously having no luck as she saw him sling something across the road. Abena pulled off to the side, a few feet in front of the truck, and got out to speak with the infuriated man.

They spoke in their native tongue, so Claire couldn't understand what they were discussing, but the man seemed extremely desperate by his body language. Claire simply watched, and soon Abena made her way around the back of the medic truck. Claire leaned over to peer around the vehicle, trying to get a good look, but couldn't see anything past the green iron. All of a sudden, Abena came racing from around the medical truck, panting at Claire's door.

"Well?" Claire pressed.

"They have a critically ill patient in the back of that truck. The driver says they were racing to the camp when the truck died about three minutes ago, and now they can't get it to start. The driver radioed for another ambulance, but …The point is, we have to get that sick man to the infirmary before it's too late. Claire, take the wheel, I'll be in the back where I'm needed."

Claire nodded and slid over to the driver's seat as Abena climbed into the back of the truck. She cranked the engine, and thanked God it started without trouble. Glancing up, she saw three Swahili men appear around the corner carrying a gurney with a dark form strapped onto it. The men raced to the pickup, going too quickly for Claire to get a good look at the sick/injured man, and climbed into the truck bed. Once they were all in, Claire backed up, turned around, and took off like there was no tomorrow.

She stepped down hard on the gas pedal, making the truck roar and go as fast as it possibly could. She wasn't going to let this guy die on account of her driving too slow. Now on a continuous straight stretch, Claire took the time to peer into the rear-view mirror. She couldn't quite make out what she saw, but she feared the dark man in the bed of the truck was fighting for his life. This thought caused her to step on the pedal harder, bringing it all the way down to the floor. In no time the truck skidded to a stop in front of the security gate once again. The guard looked at Claire, and Claire began to panic because she hadn't been given an ID yet. But soon enough, Abena shouted at the man, causing him to go wide-eyed and he then quickly punched the button, and the stop arm raised slowly before them.

"Stop at the third tent!" Abena yelled to Claire as she sped through the gate. And so she did. The medics and Abena unloaded from the truck and hastily carried the man into the tent. Claire shut off the engine and followed behind the others. When she entered the tent, people were all about gathering things and following orders shouted out by Abena. Claire advanced closer to the man on the gurney, peered past all of the busy people, and gasped when she got a good look at him.

Initially, Claire had mistaken the dark coloring for a man of African descent, but upon closer inspection it appeared that the dark pigmentation she'd seen wasn't skin at all, and if it was, it was terribly burned skin. Only, Claire doubted that, because the more she took-in the site of the injured man, the more she saw. The black stuff wasn't burned skin, it proved to be some sort of sticky, gooey substance mixed with soot and ash. Not only that, but the man was either African, and had Caucasian features, or he was simply white to begin with. Claire guessed the later. Suddenly, the man began to convulse, shaking and jerking violently, and Claire could see a white foamy substance start to seep from his clinching teeth. Medical personnel took hold of the man, holding down his arms and legs and chest, one nurse even held his head still as he continued to shake wildly. Claire continued to gaze at the man, zoned out to the hustle and bustle around her, and couldn't help but feel some form of recognition as she peered down at the man suffering from a seizure—

She was jerked out of this trance as Abena (who had been desperately trying to get her attention) shook her by the shoulders.

"Claire, all of my other hands are busy!" she breathed, "I need you to go find a lot of ice packs, and quickly!"

Broken from her trance, and just because she wanted, _needed_, to get out of there, Claire complied and ran out the tent in search of ice-packs. Suddenly, she stopped, realizing she had no _idea_ where they kept ice-packs in the camp. She began to get frantic and didn't know what to do, when Zoonte, _that was it_, went racing past her.

"Hey, Zoonte!" Zoonte stopped dead in her tracks and turned towards Claire. "Icepacks?" Claire pleaded, and hoped Zoonte knew where they were.

"Building beside Dr. Obilade's," she replied.

"Thanks!" and they both turned and headed off in opposite directions.

Claire reached the building in no time and threw open the door, she stood in the supply building and looked around frantically, when her eyes found the icebox. She ran to it and opened it up, and to her relief, there were stacks of ice-packs. She needed something to put them in, and spotted a box full of bandages. Emptying its previous contents, she began filling it with ice-packs, and soon she had it filled to the brim. She hoisted the heavy box, full of frozen ice-packs, and ran out the door.

Quickly reaching the third tent, she raced into it and to her surprise, impacted with something hard. She fell backwards, whatever she ran into fell backwards, and soon, a shower of frozen ice-packs were flying through the air. One came crashing down and hit her directly on the temple, causing her to see stars. She let out a moan of pain and sat up holding her head, only to be greeted by an angry Obilade yelling down at her in his crazy language. She got to her feet, swaying a bit, and looked at Obilade apologetically through unfocused eyes, as he continued to shout at her nonsensically. He soon realized why she wasn't listening and began speaking in her own language.

"What are you doing in here? This is no place for you! Get out!" He shouted into her face. Claire cringed, and like a scolded child, exited the tent to leave them to their work unhindered.

Outside the tent, the ashamed, concussion struck girl, sat silently on a milk crate. She felt like a fool for running into the doctor, but even worse, she felt useless. Inside, everyone was working as hard as they possibly could to ensure that the life of the Tar Clothed Man was saved. And what was she doing? Sitting outside on a milk crate, like a lost child, holding her pounding head in her hand. _Worthless fool!_ Claire thought as she slammed her fist down on her thigh. _My first day on the job, and I've already managed to screw up. Put me in a room full of BOW's and I can make it out just fine, but in a room full of nurses and doctors...Now the head doctor not only thinks I'm disrespectful, but also a good-for-nothing clutz! _She was on the verge of tears, brooding over her thoughts, when she heard a voice speak up from behind her.

"You really know how to get on his good side." Claire looked up and met the humorous sympathy plastered on Abena's face. Her clothes were covered in that black stuff.

"You really have a way with understatements." At that they shared laughter, but quickly ceased, _speak of the Devil_, as Obilade emerged from the tent.

"I want round the clock supervision," he said, while wiping his hands on a cloth, smearing the black stuff all over it's white surface. "The patient seems to be stabilized. If you should need me, you know where to find me. Oh, and Nurse."

Abena gave him her full attention.

"Make sure to sterilize that room and discard anything soiled by the tar." With that, the two women stared after him as he turned and walked away to make his rounds.

"How would you like to see the man who you helped saves life?"

Claire's blue eyes looked into Abena's dark brown. "Don't be ridiculous. I had nothing to contribute. All I did was knock down the doctor and give myself a concussion."

"You're the one who's being ridiculous, Claire." Abena bent down and grabbed Claire's arm. "Now come on." Claire went reluctantly, with the help of Abena. The last thing she wanted to do was take credit for something she had nothing to do with, but Abena was determined to make her do just that.

As they neared the sheet covered man in bed, Abena let go of Claire's arm, and Claire went closer on her own accord. But Claire suddenly stopped dead in her tracks. _It can't be_. She stared down in horror at the pale, soot-free body of the patient she'd tried so desperately to rush to safety. As realization hit her in a great wave of fear, she began to back away from the motionless form on the bed. Suddenly, in her mind's eye, she saw the man rise from his bed, eyes blazing a fiery red, and advance towards her, seeking revenge for the misery her older brother had caused him.

"It can't be," she whispered out loud this time. She began to feel dizzy,and her knees started to buckle, the concussion and fear caused her to lose consciousness. The last thing Claire saw was Abena racing towards her as she hit the cold, hard earth.

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><p><strong><em>Here is yet another advancement to my story. I'm sorry for any grammar mistakes, I wrote it tonight and went over it once before posting it. Luckily for my readers I'm on Christmas break, which means I don't have to go back to class for a few more weeks! XD So expect some more of this story weekly (if not two times a week). <em>**

**_Soon, my precious (haaa), there will be more for you to sink your teeth in to. Also, next chapter, we can hopefully expect the revival of a certain blond haired tyrant, along with some weird stuff with Jilly bean. _**

**_Till then, review and suggest please! Your praise fuels my ambition._**


	5. Chapter 5: Strange Encounters

Chapter 5:

**************Leon

When Leon had received a phone call from his boss the day he took Claire Redfield out on a date, the last thing he expected was to be called in on his vacation_—_which was short to begin with. Even more so, he would've never expected to be on a plane the next morning and in the capitol by lunch. The ex-cop couldn't complain though. It was his job, and when he was called into service he was more than obligated to do his duty. Leon considered himself to be extremely professional and, unlike many others, enjoyed his occupation just as much as he enjoyed life itself.

Evidently, his protectee Mr. Lewske, had a change of schedule as of late, and it was arranged that Leon be briefed on his subject so that he could make preparations to meet him afterward. Yesterday evening, after he had dropped off Claire, Leon spent the rest of the day reading Lewske's file, making phone calls, cancelling reservations (as a result of his vacation being cut short), and making preparations for his flight. This leads to his current situation.

Leon was in an airport in the capitol city of the U.S. searching for the little boy's room, desperately needing to take a leak. As he strode through the wide walkways of the airport and rounded a corner, he was clearly aware that he was being followed; and had been since he boarded the plane. So far whoever it was didn't appear to be a threat, and Leon supposed he'd let the guy follow him a little longer before he decided to confront the sneaky bastard. Currently Leon had lost sight of his pursuer. The agent hoped that the rascal had either gotten lost in the crowd or decided to take a hike altogether; it sure would save him the trouble in the long run.

Just ahead, Leon saw a sign reading **Restrooms** suspended welcomingly down from the ceiling. _Finally_, he thought as he pushed the door open and proceeded towards the nearest urinal. Just as he was about to unzip and relieve his bladder, a cognizance hit Leon hard in the stomach. Leon became completely aware of what had happened to his little_ friend_. He heard a faint shuffling behind him, and the hairs on the back of Leon's neck stood on end as his adrenaline coursed through his veins, amplifying his senses.

_Too slow._

After a swift dodge, Leon quickly intercepted the assailants attack by grabbing a thin, white wrist and twisting it behind the attackers back. He twisted harder, causing a groan of pain mixed with shock to slip from the aggressor's lips and the foe's weapon, _a knife_, dropped to the floor with an audible _clang_.

"Didn't your mother ever teach you it's rude to sneak up on a man while he's going about his business?" Leon whispered into his attacker's ear, when he unexpectedly felt a sharp pain shoot through his foot followed by another blow to his abdomen. This in-turn caused Leon to lose his hold and the attacker rolled away, free of his grip. As Leon stared at his assailant clad in red, his mouth gaped open.

"Ada, what are you doing here, and in a men's restroom of all places?" He questioned the Asian woman as she slipped her knife back into its holster.

"Aren't you happy to see me?" She smiled back at him slyly. "Believe it or not, I have some business here in the capitol. When I saw you on the plane, I only thought it would be nice to pay an old friend a visit."

_Yeah, right, like I haven't heard that one before_, Leon snickered. "Cut the crap, Ada. Why were you following me?" She crossed her arms and leaned against the door, the sly smile still plastered on her countenance.

"I simply came to deliver a message," she cocked her head cunningly. "Perhaps a warning."

"Oh?" he pressed.

"You should keep a close eye on your new man, Leon. Bad things tend to happen to good people," she said, and with that she turned and disappeared through the door. _Oh no you don't_, Leon wasn't about to let her escape this time, he had a little _warning _of his own to tell her, whether she took it seriously or not. Leon rushed through the door chasing after her.

"Ada, wait!" he called. The woman in red slowed but didn't stop, so Leon continued after her, grabbed her wrist and pulled her to him, turning her around so that they were face-to-face. He didn't care that he was making a spectacle, she needed to hear this.

"What is it, Le…" she began, but then Leon moved closer and whispered into her ear so that only she could hear the message he intended to deliver.

"Let this be my warning to you, Ada." He whispered firmly. "You were declared a threat to this country a long time ago, and your recent 'message' just confirmed that declaration all over again. Next time we meet; don't expect things to be so friendly. If you give me reason, I may be forced to take action, past aside." With that, he opened space between them and released his hold on her wrist.

"Warning taken." She looked up at him, producing a cunning smile. For a split second Leon thought he saw her falter, but couldn't be sure. Ada then turned and walked away. _See ya around_, Leon thought as he gazed after her, slinking away like some majestic feline.

Later on this encounter would bother her slightly, just a little.

****************Claire

Claire Redfield awoke disoriented to two quiet voices speaking softly in a weird, incomprehensible language. Her eyes peeled open slowly and a moan escaped from her lips as the blinding light hit her pupils, causing her to instantly squeeze them shut again.

"She's awake," Claire heard a familiar male voice announce. Peering through her lashes, the disoriented girl saw Dr. Obilade coming toward her. Claire began to cautiously set up when Obilade rushed to her side to aid her. "Easy now, Miss Redfield. Not so fast," he instructed.

"Where am I?" Claire asked, peering up at Dr. Obilade. She was strongly aware of a throbbing sensation in her head and soon realized she was on a hospital bed.

"You're at the Terra Save encampment in Africa." He enunciated. "You got bumped on the head."

"Oh yeah, the ice-packs." Claire recalled. A woman appeared by Dr. Obilade and smiled down at Claire.

"How are you feeling?"

"Like a million bucks," Claire said sarcastically, but still returned a smile for Abena.

"That's good," said the Doctor, completely blind to her sarcasm. "I came here earlier to check on our new patient. I also hoped I'd find you here." Claire eyed him confusedly. "I wanted to make an apology for my actions earlier. I know you were only trying to help_—_that's what you came for, and I was wrong to yell at you."

"Oh no!" Claire looked down ashamed. "I should have been looking where I was going, really." He held up a hand to quiet her.

"Nevertheless, I felt I needed to. Is my apology good?" He asked, and Claire nodded her head. "Very well," he smiled, and Claire realized it was the first time she'd seen him do it. It was a nice change. "I'm going to give you a small amount of pain killers for your concussion. Abena will see to it that you get them." And with that the doctor left the two women.

"I think you and the Doctor are on good terms?" Abena beamed at Claire.

"Yeah, what a relief… By the way, how long was I out?"

"Roughly four hours." Claire concluded she had been out long enough for it to be dark by now. "I examined your head_—_there was just a small bump_—_and applied a cold compress to it." Claire followed Abena's eyes and found an ice-pack lying on her pillow. _How ironic_, she smiled faintly to herself. Abena then reached into her pocket and produced a small, clear bottle with a foreign label on the cover. "Here," she said, handing them to Claire. "These are the pain killers."

"Thanks," Claire said and stored the bottle in her pocket.

"Anyway, it's about time I showed you to your new home." Claire turned back to Abena, and she couldn't agree more. Sliding off the stiff hospital bed, she and Abena began making their way towards the entrance. Abena exited first and Claire followed closely behind her, but before she left the tent, she stopped, remembering what the doctor had said.

_"I came here earlier to check on our new patient…." _Claire slowly spun around and instantly regretted it. To her horror, lying next to the bed she'd previously occupied was none other than the unconscious Wesker. _So it wasn't just a nightmare, this is the real deal…he's still alive. After all—_

"Claire! Aren't you coming?" Abena called from the truck, scattering Claire's thoughts to oblivion. Claire turned and _fled_ for the old pickup.

"I'm sorry you can't live in camp." Abena said as she eased the truck around a curve. "All the buildings are occupied by nurses. Even some of the tents hold medical personnel, there's just no room left. Not to worry though, you won't be completely alone out there. You'll have two neighbors, you met one today. He works as a nurse at headquarters. The other is a mother and son; they're survivors of the plaga outbreak."

"Really? How did they manage to survive?" Claire asked full of wonder.

"They left, and came back when it was all over. Also, the son's the one that found that poor man." Claire's eyes grew wide. "Something wrong, Claire?" Claire looked down at her hands in deep consideration. Was something wrong? Most definitely. Perhaps nothing was directly in conflict with her at the moment, but she couldn't deny the fact that there was something terribly, terribly wrong. After her brother had told her that Wesker was gone for good, that it would finally be over, she possessed no reason to doubt his words as he conveyed the story to her. But now, just as she was starting to get comfortable with the fact that the king on the chessboard was in continual checkmate, she couldn't help but wonder and fear how he'd survived. How could he possibly be alive?

"Abena, wh-what's the story on this guy?"

"Hmm?" Abena said glancing at Claire from the corner of her eye. "Oh! You mean the patient." Claire nodded. "Actually while you were passed out I managed to get the story from one of the medics. He says they received a call from the boy who reported finding a man lying lifelessly on an old game trail he'd gone to hunt on this morning, not ten miles from where your residence is, that appeared to have fallen into a tar pit. The boy reported the man was unresponsive and looked to be quite dead, that is until he began to convulse violently. So he then put the patient into his vehicle and drove to his home where he called us." Chill bumps rose up all over Claire's body. Wesker being found ten miles from her residence was not only haunting but sickening. What if she'd been there and the boy hadn't found him on the game trail. Would the tyrant have eventually recovered and found his way to her address, rejoicing in the fact that he found his most hated enemies little sister? Then what? Chris would probably have received a phone call a few days later informing him that his sister had been murdered in the place he'd begged her so vehemently not to go.

Claire couldn't bear to think about it. The question now was what was _she_ going to do? She'd been so frightened with the idea that Wesker was back to even begin to think of what she _needed_ to do. She now considered calling the BSAA to inform them that he was back, but it could clearly take them a while to get to her location. Besides that, what if he woke up before the authorities got there? She could call local authorities, but what could they do, when Wesker woke up (which he undoubtedly would do soon) there was probably no stopping him. Then it hit her. _She _would have to _do it_. There was no other way for her to guarantee everyone's safety than to dispose of him before he woke up. As much as Claire dreaded the idea of taking the life of an unsuspecting, unzombiefied person, she knew it was up to her to make sure Wesker couldn't live any longer.

"Claire?" Abena asked concernedly, breaking Claire from her trance.

"I'm okay." Claire gave a false reassuring smile. "I was just thinking."

"That's all? For a minute there you looked as if you'd seen a _roho_." Claire raised an eyebrow. "It's Swahili for ghost or spirit."

"I'm okay, really. I was just…deep in thought. Hey, didn't you say that black substance was tar from a tar pit?"

Abena nodded. "That is most likely," but Claire knew better. She had an inkling as to what the substance really was, and it was a long way off from tar.

"Hey, look up Miss Claire, we are here!" The black woman announced. Claire stared out the window as they got closer to her new residence and made a note of the dwellings cozy appearance. "Well, here we are," Abena said, and put the truck into park. "Do you want me to show you in? I really must be getting back." Claire shook her head and told her new friend that it was okay, she could manage, and then she climbed out of the truck and went to retrieve her luggage from the truck bed. Abena informed the redhead that she would be by to pick her up in the morning, and after expressing their friendly goodbyes, Abena pulled off and Claire ventured into her new home.

Upon entering the residence, Claire fumbled on the wall for a light switch on her right. Finding one, she quickly flicked it upward and the whole room became illuminated with light. Her blue eyes scanned the view and she became instantly pleased with what she saw. The interior of the house looked just as cozy as the exterior; the small home wasn't much different from an American apartment. There was a kitchen with plenty of counter space for one person; this connected to a living room equipped with a sofa adjoining a love seat, and in the middle sat an interesting oval coffee table with intricate, shell incrusted designs. Claire ventured into the small hallway connected to the living room, first she opened the door on her left, discovering a washing machine and dryer, and next she opened the door to her right, finding her new bedroom.

The bedroom was equipped with a premade bed, a nightstand and a dresser. Claire placed her bags down at the foot of her bed, and gazed around the room when her eyes fell upon yet another door. She strode across the room and turned the handle to the door. Upon entering she found the bathroom which contained a shower, toilet, and a wash basin with a mirror set above it. Claire then went back to her bed and plopped down on it. She was extremely pleased with the small abode, completely furnished with authentic African furniture and decor. She couldn't be happier, but as she sat gleefully like a child in a candy shop, her good mood was soon extinguished when she recalled the disturbing task laid out for her tomorrow.

Claire sighed. Tomorrow she would be extremely reluctant to take a sleeping man's life, but she knew what had to be done. She needed help, feeling there was no way she could do this alone. Her mind automatically went to her protective older brother Chris, but she swept the thoughts away knowing that she was on her own and could do it without his help. Still, her hand found her pocket and pulled out her cell phone. She contemplated calling Chris, and then decided against it, noting that there wasn't a signal anyway, and slipped her phone back into her jean pocket. She could do this, she _needed_ to do it, not only to save countless innocent lives, but also to prove to herself and to Chris that she could.

That night, Claire fought restless sleep, and she dreamed of Raccoon City.

****************Chris

Just as his little sister had passed out from an ice-pack/fear induced concussion, Chris Redfield was returning home from work. It'd been a long day back at the old headquarters and he was in desperate need of rest and some grub. Not to mention that he was extremely eager to see that pretty face he left back home so he could inform her of what the team had received earlier that morning.

Chris turned on his radio and cranked up the volume, after searching to no avail he shut it off, deciding to go without it. There was something really disturbing about the list they'd received, probably because there were organizations such as St. Jude on the list. Chris didn't know what kind of business the people running St. Jude had with organizations such as Tricell, but he doubted very much that they were buying BOW's off the black market. He hoped the children's cancer research hospital was trying to develop some sort of cure for cancer by manipulating the other organizations research notes, but one could never be sure with how screwed up the world had become. Of course the BSAA was already aware of some of the names on the list and their involvement with the illegal BOW black market, but there were also a few that the BSAA was completely unaware of.

Chris couldn't have been happier when his representative, O'Brian called the agents in for a conference, and announced that they would act on it, but only with a little bit more evidence. So O'Brian announced that he was scheduled to go on live television as of tomorrow and make an announcement for the sender of the list to hear. He would demand more, viable evidence to go with the accusations before the BSAA would jump the gun and go on a wild goose chase. So the BSAA was taking the 'Zodiac' approach to it, and could only hope that the sender would comply and lead them to the real deal.

Chris slid into his parking space in front of the house, pulled the keys out the ignition, grabbed his jacket and made his way to the front door. He first checked the doorknob (knowing it would be locked but checked it anyway) and when it didn't turn he inserted the key into the lock. He pushed the door open and went to hang his jacket up, only to find that the coat rack was no longer there. That's when he felt it. Something wasn't right.

The Redfield draped his jacket over his thick arm and made his way around the corner, into the living room. All the lights were off, the TV was even off, and Jill wasn't in her usual place on the couch.

"Jill?" He called, becoming worried. He received no answer so he turned towards the kitchen to go upstairs to his bedroom, maybe she'd fallen asleep in his bed. "Jill! I'm h—

But he was cut off by a loud roar and then a hard blow to his face. He heard a _crunch_ and automatically knew his nose had been broken as blood covered his upper lip. He was then tackled to the ground. He held his attacker back as _she_ struggled to get at him.

"Die you monster!" She screamed, as Chris stared up at a half crazed, half scared Jill. He was shocked to find that she appeared like the Jill back in Africa, angry and savage, unstoppable. But there was something even more shocking to Chris as he stared up at his partner.

Her hair.

She'd cut her, once shoulder length hair, into a short, choppy, blond mess.

"Jill, what happened?" He asked appalled. Jill whimpered at his words and somehow all of a sudden broke free from him and tried to crawl away. Chris swiftly caught her and pulled her backwards into his chest, and she began to struggle and scream in terror. He placed a firm hand over her mouth to stifle her scream.

"Shh, Jill. It's me, Chris," he cooed into her ear. With that she immediately stiffened and ceased her struggled attempts to break free. He let go of her and she turned in his arms to study his face.

"Chris?" He nodded. "It is you!" Jill then melted into his arms and began sobbing uncontrollably. "Oh, Chris! I'm so sorry," she gasped. "I didn't know, and then I heard the children, and those horrible noises —and I was so scared!" She buried her face deeper into his chest.

"Jill," he said, while caressing her head and tightening his arm around her thin frame. "It's okay, I'm here now. Nothing's going to hurt you anymore." _Please don't lose it, Jill. You're stronger than this. Oh God please don't let her lose_ —That's when she pulled away from him, leaving his shirt damp with tears. Her eyes went from his wet shirt to his bloodied nose and then down cast from shame.

"I'm so sorry, Chris. I didn't mean to hurt you." Chris gave a light chuckle.

"Don't worry about it, it wouldn't be the first time you taught me a lesson. Next time I'll know better than to walk into a house with all the lights off," he joked. She smiled back at him and relaxed a little bit. Chris's eyes then wandered back to her hair and she must have noticed him staring because she went to touch it and looked away shyly. "By the way," he said, and grabbed her hand. "I like it. Reminds me of the old days. Tomorrow we can go see what we can do to get it a little more even. Now c'mon," he said, pulling her up with him. "We need to talk about a few things, yeah?" He asked peering into her eyes. She nodded and they both headed towards to kitchen , where Chris made them both a surprisingly good cup of hot cocoa.

* * *

><p><em>Well you guy's, I'm extremely sorry about the late post, but new years came around and all of a sudden my friends wanted to go and spend a few days with them! I'm also sorry that I didn't revive Wesker in this chapter, but once I had written this all out I figured it would go much better with the next chapter. Oh, and I almost forgot about poor little Leon, so I felt I needed to add him into this chapter so he can continue on in this story. Anyway, Wesker will most DEFINITELY be revived in the next chapter. Trust me, I want to hear something from him as well. XD<br>_

_Anyway, good news is that I'm no longer a hostage to my kidnapping friends and I'll have more time and peace to write. _

_That said, tell me what you think. _


	6. Chapter 6: The Awakening

Chapter 6: The Awakening

"Chris, hold still!" Jill commanded to the Redfield as he winced in pain.

Before the two had settled in the kitchen for some hot cocoa, it was decided they needed to do something about Chris' bloodied, broken nose. After Chris had went to retrieve a wet rag from the bathroom so that Jill could clean the blood before it started flowing again, he peered through the living room doorway and discovered the culprit behind his broken nose.

The coat-rack.

This certainly solved a lot of mysteries that had run through Chris' mind. Initially he'd wondered where the coat-rack had disappeared to when he came in earlier, and afterward, when he received the hard blow to the face, he thought it was strange that Jill's fist were as hard and cold as Colossus' from x-men.

Now he was sitting in one of the oak kitchen chairs, Jill hovering over him with a blood soaked rag in hand, with his head back and eyes squeezed tightly shut in discomfort. She wiped tenderly at the blood that continued to exude from his nose, and after seeing that it wasn't going to stop, she let out a sigh and placed the discolored washcloth on the table.

"It's not going to stop bleeding. We need to put it back into place while there isn't so much blood in the way." Chris' eyes flew open and he shook his head in panicked disapproval. "Come on, Chris! The swelling's not bad and we need to do it before it does get bad," she said, staring down at him with sympathy.

Chris sighed and closed his eyes shut again. "Fine, let's get this over with," he breathed, his voice nasally as a result of his broken nose. As much as he dreaded the idea of having his nose forced back in place by Jill—who was a far way off from any doctor—he knew what had to be done. It was a good thing he had enough confidence in Jill that he would let her do it. Otherwise he'd probably have to head to the doctor before work the next morning.

Jill placed her hands strategically on either side of Chris' nose and began to press down tenderly but firmly.

"Okay, here goes…"

"Wait!" Chris yelled, more muffled and nasally than before, and slapped Jill's hands away.

"What now?" The blonde demanded.

Chris looked away shyly while mumbling something inaudible under his breath.

"Come again?" She pressed.

"It's gonna hurt!" Chris finally said. Jill's mouth fell open in disbelief, but before she could comment on his child-like protests, Chris continued. "Don't look at me like that. I wasn't ready, okay?" Jill tilted her head and crossed her arms, this was becoming ridiculous. "Just let me get a breath, and then you can work your magic." He said, staring up at her apologetically.

Jill agreed and placed her hands back into their original position on his face, he inhaled deeply through his mouth, and without mercy Jill pressed down hard and forced Chris' nose back into place with a loud _crack_. Following this action was a quick intake of air through the Redfield's teeth.

"_Ouch_! You could've warned me. No counting or nothing." He whined.

"It wouldn't have made any difference," Jill smirked, a cunning glint in her eye. "Suck it up, you big baby." She reached for the bloodied rag and handed it to Chris. "Now how about that hot cocoa and the news you were so eager to tell me? Or have you forgotten?"

Chris took the rag from Jill and brought it up to his nose to wipe away the small trickle of blood that had formed at the orifice. "How could I forget?" With that he went to the sink to wash his hands and began preparing their warm, chocolate drinks, while Jill went to the freezer and brought out a Chinese meal for Chris' supper and placed it in the microwave. With the state Jill had been in that day, she wasn't capable of doing anything besides hiding in corners and behind walls; anticipating the next monster to come lurking out of the shadows.

She'd barely eaten anything herself, aside from that morning's breakfast. That was before she started hearing the noises; like the children playing outside that triggered bad memories and caused horrific hallucinations. When little Cathy Brown from down the street let out a blood curling scream after her brother Jimmy took her beloved doll away from her, it was all Jill could do to not lose control completely from her panic attack. _The children_. Now that was something Jill wasn't quite ready to confide in Chris. She was sure they'd talk some about Africa and her time spent in the hands of Wesker tonight, but she couldn't bring herself to tell him some of the darker things that went on, especially when it pertained to the children. Jill wasn't even ready herself to admit to some of the horrible acts she'd committed whilst under the control of the malevolent despot.

Of course, the children hadn't caused her new haircut. No, she did that after staring at her reflection in the mirror for a long expanse of time. Some would say this was an act only a crazy person could be capable of doing, considering the state of mind she was in when she did it. But this didn't make her crazy. She was still completely sane, contrary to popular belief (that sometimes she believed herself). Cutting her blond locks was more of an act of nostalgia. Day after day Jill disliked looking at her reflection, she couldn't recognize herself anymore, and her appearance reminded her of, _him_, something. It reminded her of Africa.

The timer buzzed on the microwave, and Jill opened the door before it could continue its high pitch cry. She hated that sound, and usually stopped the microwave before it could even beep. She took out the Chinese meal, got a fork from the drawer, and placed it down on the table for Chris as she took a seat. Chris brought over two mugs full of delicious smelling hot cocoa and place one down in front of Jill.

"Drink up," he said. "Careful it's hot."

Jill picked up her mug and blew on it "Thank you," she smiled at him as he took a seat adjoining her own. "Looks like we're having Chinese tonight!" He exclaimed while picking up his fork to dig in.

"I'm sorry I didn't have anything ready for when you got home. I was…distracted." Jill said, looking down at her mug ashamedly.

"Don't sweat it, Jillybean. A meal's a meal. Besides, you know I love Chinese!" he said, giving her a reassuring smile. Jill knew Chris meant well, but his recent mannerism toward her was getting a bit annoying. At times it was okay, and understandable, but then often it was as if he were treating her like a child, or some fragile piece of glass, as if she would break from the tiniest of movements. Jill supposed she only had herself to blame, with how she'd been reacting to things since she got back, but she was far from fragile. In her mind, Jill wanted Chris to treat her like he always had, like she was one of the guys, the same old partner as always. But, she decided to save that discussion for another time. Right now she wanted to know the news Chris initially intended to deliver when he came home earlier that night.

"So, tell me what happened at work today."

Chris shoved a bulky heap of rice and other things into his mouth and barely chewed before swallowing. "Oh, yeah. Well, you see, it started with a letter Director O'Brian received earlier this morning…" Chris went on to inform Jill of the story, telling her the more important names and organizations on the list, and how the group decided to go about things. Jill listened attentively and was eager to hear all that Chris knew of the letter and became disheartened when he told her they didn't know who the sender was.

"The director decided that he would make a public announcement on live TV at noon tomorrow in hopes that the sender will convey more reliable sources for his or her accusations." Chris finished, and leaned back in his chair. Jill stared at him intently, taking time to register what he'd just told her.

"Chris," she began, "this is huge!" Chris only nodded while he watched the realization spread across her face.

"And we could use all the help we can get for something of this magnitude," he reached across the table to take hold of Jill's hand. "Whaddya say, partner? How 'bout you coming back to work with your old pal and team?" he asked, staring into Jill's clear, blue eyes.

"I-I don't know, Chris." She said, breaking eye contact.

"It's okay if you're not ready, Jill." His warm hand squeezed hers gently. This involuntarily caused huge butterflies to erupt within her stomach. "You want to talk about what went on today?" With much hesitation Jill nodded and began.

"Some kids playing outside earlier today reminded me of…things. I guess my mind started playing tricks on me. And then that damn picture," she glanced towards the living room.

"What picture?" Chris asked, his thumb making unconscious little circles over the smooth skin of Jill's hand. Chris may not have realized what he was doing, but Jill did, and heat began to rise in her cheeks.

"The S.T.A.R.S. group photo. It has—" _I wish he'd stop that_, she stared down at his hand, and continued reluctantly. "It has _him_ in it."

Chris immediately understood. "Wesker, that bastard!" He spat. "Jill, what did he do to you?" Chris urged almost angrily, staring intently into her eyes. Jill pulled her hand out from his, uncertain of the feelings the hand caressing caused in her, and stared towards the kitchen window. Chris wasn't hurt by this though, he understood Jill. She wasn't one that liked to be touched intimately very often, especially when she needed her space to think.

"I have only two things to say about Albert Wesker," she mused while staring out through the window into the darkness of night. "I'll be forever grateful to him for saving my life," Jill began. "But I can never forgive him—or his memory—for the horrible things he forced me to do, for the way he…used me." With that she turned to Chris and said, "He was a monster, Chris. And I'm glad he's dead."

That night, Chris removed the photo from the book shelf and stored it away in his upstairs nightstand, where Jill, nor anyone else, would ever _have_ to look at it again. Later, Jill and Chris watched TV and talked in the living room, when at around 10:00 p.m. Chris received a phone call from Claire (who seems to be acting slightly odd). As the night grew old, Jill eventually fell into a peaceful sleep; safe and sound, in Chris' strong arms.

****************Claire

Claire awoke sweaty and slightly disoriented from the night before. She'd dreamed of Raccoon City; it'd been a while since she'd had those nightmares. Aside from the one on the plane, she hadn't had that kind of nightmare in over a year.

It could easily be said that _some_ of her sweat had come from the nightmares, but _most_ of it came from the heat! Although the thermostat had been turned down as far as she dared, it still felt only a little cooler than, and just as humid as a sauna, in her new abode. It would certainly take her a while to adapt to this whether.

Claire slung the sheets off her sticky legs and grabbed her phone off the desk beside her bed. The time read 6:26 a.m.; she had a little over an hour before Abena came to pick her up. Unable to sleep any longer, and feeling a desperate need to take a shower, Claire rolled out of bed and began to prepare for the day ahead of her. After she showered and got dressed, Claire ventured into her new kitchen in hopes of finding some coffee and a pot to boil it in. To her relief, she discovered that the kitchen already contained these two things, and she set out to prepare her morning brew. After her coffee finished brewing, Claire settled for milk as creamer and two sugar packets from her plane ride for sweetener; she certainly wouldn't drink it black.

Coffee in hand, Claire made her way outside; she wanted to know what it felt like to wake up in Tanzania. When she stepped outside, the air was even more humid and hot than it had been in her house. She made a habitual 'Shew!' sound and ran the back of her hand across her forehead. It certainly was hot in here. Claire peered out into the vast wilderness that surrounded her tiny home. Although the ground was mostly brown, there were lush plants and tall elephant grass could be seen across the field. Claire also recognized many of the ever so famous African Umbrella Thorn trees all around her; their long branches twisting up into the sky, holding up lush green leaves that formed the 'umbrella' part of the tree. _Unbearably hot or not, it truly is beautiful here_.

Claire turned to her left and spotted a little house, not so different from her own, at about eighty yards away. She concluded that it had to be the home of the fellow Terra Save member Abena had told her about last night. It was a relief to know that someone else besides herself lived out there in the vast wilderness. And it was especially good to know she wasn't alone. Gazing past the house, Claire realized a large, snowcapped mountain in the distance. Even from here she could tell it was gargantuan, Claire was sure she'd never seen such a large mountain before. _Yeah, but that's not a mountain at all, Claire. That's a volcano_.

"No way…" she mumbled to herself. But her assumptions were correct. It was a volcano, and one that Chris was _very _familiar with. Claire sat her coffee cup on the porch railing and reached into her pocket, pulling out her phone. She decided she needed to call Chris; she had a few questions to ask him. Luckily, outside there was a slight signal, _one bar_, but just enough to do the trick.

"You'd think being a military edition cellphone, it'd get signal anywhere…" she said out loud, as she dialed her brother's number. It rang twice before she heard a familiar voice pick up on the other end.

"Yeah?"

"Good morning, monkey brains." Claire elated.

"Morning?" Chris snorted. "It's the middle of the night. Anyway, what's up, Claire-bear?"

"Just waking up to my first morning in beautiful Tanzania, Africa." Chris laughed on the other end. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing. I guess I just couldn't see the beauty in it when I was butchering the infected the whole time. Anyway, how was your first day on the job?"

"Eventful," she mused. "Listen, Chris. I have a few questions for you."

"Alright, shoot."

"What was the name of the volcano where you fought your last battle with—_he's still alive_—Wesker?" Chris was silent on the other line; he was trying to recall the name.

"Uhm," he finally said, "that would be Kilimanjaro, I think. Why?"

"I just wanted to know how close I was to it," she said. "Ya know, just to know?" And she was very close indeed if her guess was right.

"Ah, okay…Is that all you wanted to know, sis?"

"No. I have one more question. What was Uroboros like before _and_ after death?"

"Why? Is there someone infected at the encampment?" he asked concernedly.

"No," she hesitated. It was a good thing too. The last thing she needed was a whole bunch of guys in black uniforms and gas masks coming in to shut down the encampment and detain everything. "I just want to be on my toes if we ever had to encounter something infected with it is all."

"Okay… whatever you say, Claire." Chris didn't know why, but he wasn't quite buying it. "Uroboros is like a parasite, it absorbs elements and such around it to grow in size and mutate. At least, that's how it would seem from the files we have on it and combat data. I can tell you an easy way to identify it. If it's covered in black tentacles then you better watch out, that's a sure sign of Uroboros. Anyway, after it's dead the Uroboros disintegrates, and all that's left is this sticky, black tar-like substance."

"I see...Do you think the lab at the camp would have samples —or photographs of it?"

"What?" he exclaimed. "No way in hell they'd have samples, that stuff's too dangers to just leave lying around! The only people who might have a surviving sample would be the CDC, and that's highly unlikely since we're pretty sure all the specimens were destroyed over a month ago. Now the photographs, maybe. The only thing I'm sure they'd have would be some files sent from HQ. I dunno, Claire-bear. Is there something you're not telling me? You better tell me now if there is," he admonished.

"Don't be silly, Chris. I'm just curious is all." But Chris wasn't being silly, there certainly was something Claire continued to fail to mention. Like perhaps, _Albert Wesker is alive. Hurry and send everyone you can._ Still, she remained silent about the fact and she would inform him _after_ she took care of a few things first. "Oh, I have to go, Chris. My ride's here!" and it was a valid excuse, because here came Abena in the old mongrel truck, making its way up the dirt road.

"Claire, wait—

"No time. I gotta go. I'll call you when I get back home. Bye, love you, baboon butt!" And with that, she hung up.

_Baboon butt, _Chris though. _Again with the monkey insults._ Something definitely wasn't right about the phone call he'd just received from his little sister. Not because she'd mocked him with monkey insults (_if anyone has a baboon butt it's you)_, because she did that often; increasingly since he buffed up for his fight against bioterrorism. He made a mental note to interrogate her when she called him back later, which would probably be _his_ morning_._

Abena and Claire arrived at the encampment in no time. The guard at the security gate requested to see Abena's ID once again, of which Abena complained about as they drove through. At least he wasn't being negligent of his duties.

"Here we are, Miss Claire." The dark woman said. "Tell me, how did you like your new home?"

Claire saw her chance. "I love it," she gave a reassuring smile. "I couldn't help but notice the huge mountain off in the distance past my neighbor's house."

"Oh. Mt. Kilimanjaro, that's no mountain, it's a volcano! Although, only the Kibo/Uhuru cone is active."

"So I have nothing to worry about?" Just as Claire had suspected, the very volcano she was housed only a few miles from, was the exact one her brother faced Wesker in. It proved to be a bone chilling idea. This took a new meaning to 'hit close to home'.

Abena shook her head. "By the way, Claire. Today you're going out with a relief group to aid in whatever way you can to the families and individuals affected by the recent catastrophe." This excited Claire. She was more than ready to get out and provide as much aid as she could. It sure beat feeling useless in a medical camp full of the sick, doctors, and nurses. "But first," Abena said, stopping and shutting off the engine. "I need to have a word with the doctor, before I get you acquainted with your relief group." Abena opened the door and got out, then turned to Claire. "You can stay here if you like." Claire nodded and Abena headed for the paint-peeled office.

The redhead glanced around and spotted tent three. Although she'd pushed it to the back of her mind until now, she hadn't forgotten the decision she'd made last night, and now was the ideal time for her to act on it.

Claire jumped out of the pickup, then coolly and calmly made her way towards tent three. She prayed that no one was in there, and prayed even harder for the tyrant to still be unconscious. Halting in front of the entrance on heavy, shaky legs, Claire finally forced herself to step inside the tent. She glanced around; every sound was drowned out by the loud drone of a huge steel fan circulating the humid air. There wasn't a soul in sight, aside from two unconscious patients across the room from where Wesker lay. _This must be the critical care unit, seeing as how little patients there are. Not to mention all of them are unconscious…hopefully_, she glanced over at Wesker.

Taking a deep breath she made her way to the side of Wesker's bed. When she got there Claire realized she had no idea how she was going to do it. She hadn't even _thought_ about it, she just knew she was going to. Claire glanced down at the tyrant's motionless (aside from his steady breathing), sleeping form._ You could smother him_, she thought. _No! That wouldn't work, more than likely he'd wake up struggling and the med team would come running_. _That AND the cause of death would be obvious._ Feeling extremely pressed for time and at an utter loss for options, _I could really use a gun_, Claire glanced quickly around the tent. That's when her eyes fell upon a white table full of medical supplies and equipment.

She paced over to the table and in a small period of time, found _exactly_ what she was searching for. A needle. She'd read in a magazine once about painful ways to die. One of the ways was to inject someone in their vein with a syringe full of air. Apparently this made air build up in the victims veins and caused an air embolus, and if it reached the lungs it could prove deadly. Claire remembered that the magazine also said it would require _a lot_ of air to accomplish this. Luckily, there was plenty of air to go around.

Claire grabbed the syringe and ripped open the package. After stuffing the wrappings into her shorts pocket, she swiftly assembled the needle to the ampule and returned back to Wesker's bedside. Claire searched his arm, which wasn't hard at all to find a vein in, and easily noticed he'd been stuck multiple times already. One more stick would blend in perfectly. She pulled back the pull and filled the entire syringe will air, then brought the fine, sharp tip of the needle down to his vein.

_Claire, what are you doing? _Her eyebrows furrowed, and she continued on with her task. _What's it look like I'm doing? I'm saving the world from yet another monster…but he's still a human being. _And that was true, Albert Wesker _was_ still a human being, but it didn't make up for the fact that he was a monster. A very dangerous one at that. This ultimately made up Claire's mind (also realizing she'd been in there long enough) and she disregarded her internal conflict of Sensible Claire vs. Non-Sensible Claire. _Now shut up and let me just do_ —

That's when she thought she heard something. Her eyes shot away from Wesker's arm, to his oxygen mask equipped face . His lips had become somewhat parted from underneath the mask and his breathing quickened slightly. Claire stared hard at his mouth and could have sworn she saw…_his lips are moving._ And they were! With great hesitance and reluctance, she slowly removed the oxygen mask from Wesker's face, sliding it up and over his head. Claire then positioned herself so that her ear was directly above Wesker's mouth. For a few seconds all she could hear, _and feel_, were the shallow breaths he was making. Then she heard it. A simple, undistinguished word. She brought her ear closer and this time she heard it clearly.

"_Water…" _he breathed. Claire's mouth fell open in disbelief, _he's awake._ That's when she heard someone come through the entrance of the tent. She hurriedly concealed the syringe behind her back and met Abena's carefree countenance with a horrified look on her face.

"Claire, are—what's the matter?" she asked, her brown eyes going between the redhead and the patient.

"He's awake." Claire squeaked, wide-eyed.

"What? O-Okay, you wait hear. I'll go get the doctor!" and with that Abena rushed out the entrance.

Claire stared after Abena in a slight shock, but after feeling the prick of the needle in her arm, she was brought back to reality. Getting to her feet, Claire stood and tossed the syringe into the disposal bin. Now that her plan was ruined, she may as well get rid of the unused evidence. Claire turned back towards Wesker and stared down at him in shock horror. _Stay here? With him?_ She though exasperatedly. _What if he recognizes me?_ That's when his eyes slid slightly open.

_"Water," _he whispered again. _Oh God_, Claire thought. _Look anywhere but at me!_ To her relief his eyes slid back shut, and she let out a breath she wasn't aware of holding. Staring down at his relaxed face, she saw his lips continue to move, but no sound came out. _All he wants is a little sip of water, Claire! Give it to the poor man!_ As much as she hated to, she knew she couldn't help herself to giving in. He may be the number one tyrant of so many she knows nightmares, but lying there, weak and seemingly frail, was a man in desperate need of some hydration. Claire wasn't about to be the one to deprive anyone of something they pleaded for so desperately. It wasn't in her blood.

Claire turned and looked around; she knew she'd seen it somewhere within the tent. Then she spotted it, a big plastic, blue-tinted water jug connected to a dispenser next to the table where she'd gotten her syringe. She went over to the water dispenser, and with shaking hands, filled one of the white Styrofoam cups to the brim and returned back to Wesker.

Standing there, she realized she couldn't very well hand the cup to him, she doubted he could even grasp it, much less bring it to his mouth. Claire also realized she was short a straw, and glanced back towards the dispenser only to discover there weren't any. _Great. I'll have to help him._

Claire leaned down and slid her hand under Wesker's head, making a ridiculous mental note of how soft his disheveled hair was. "Here's your water. Drink up," she said way more softly than what she intended. It was almost tender, like a mother to a child. _Almost? It was!_ Her brain screamed. Wesker's brows furrowed, but he worked with, instead of against Claire, and she brought the cup to his lips. He drank eagerly, but most of it escaped down the corners of his mouth and onto his chest and sheet. After he was finished and the cup was empty, she eased his head back down onto the pillow gently. Claire then turned and went to fill the cup once again when she felt a warm hand barely grasp at her wrist before it gave up and her arm slipped from the grip.

"Thank you," Wesker said more loudly, but just as weak as before. Claire turned and met his eyes, which were peering at her through lazy lids. Something was strange about his eyes, something was _different_. _They're blue_, she concluded. _Not that blazing fiery red from before._

"Miss Redfield!" Claire jumped at the voice of Obilade, and cursed him for saying her name. Wesker seemed not to notice, thankfully. "Has he said anything?"

Claire faced the doctor. "Nothing besides water."

"And did you give it to him?" Obilade's eyes went to the empty Styrofoam cup in Claire's hand. She nodded. "Oh well, that's okay. Now I must ask you to step outside, I don't want to give him any distractions while I evaluate him." Claire complied and left the tent, meeting Abena and few more curious medical personnel outside.

"How is he?" asked Abena enthusiastically.

"I don't know," Claire said, becoming transfixed on a pebble on the ground.

"We will all know in a few minutes."

They did. About thirty-five minutes later Obilade emerged from the tent with a doctors clip board in hand. All of the by standers, except for Claire, looked at the doctor eagerly for answers.

Obilade sighed, "The patient remembers nothing. Not his name, where he came from, possible relatives. Nothing. It seems we have a John Doe on our hands." This caused much murmuring among the small crowd, and certainly got Claire's attention

"What a shame." Claire heard one of the nurses say. But this news was certainly anything but a shame to Claire. Wesker not remembering anything, not knowing who she was, was a blessing she never thought of asking for.

"Miss Redfield," Obilade broke into her thoughts. "I must speak with you." Claire followed the doctor off to the side so that they could speak.

"What is it?" she asked.

"John Doe requests you." Claire's eyebrow shot up in confusion. "He insisted more than once to see you. I asked him why, and he said he wasn't sure, that he felt comfortable around you." Claire's face contorted into a confused scowl and she broke eye contact with Obilade, desperately trying to find something besides the doctor to stare daggers into. "Now, we could train you as a nursing assistant perhaps, in order for you to help look after him."

"WHAT?" Claire shouted in disbelief.

* * *

><p><em>Okay, so first off, I'm kind of happy and proud I got this chapter finished. Meaning, I'm slightly proud of this chapter. <em>

_Now, it's time to apologize for some of my past booboo's. They're slight mistakes, but to an avid resident evil fan, they can be quite annoying. So I was playing resident evil three yesterday (beat it extremely fast, without saving, might I add) and realized that in the first chapter I placed Jill's desk in front of Chris'. Well that was a total screw up on my part seeing as how Chris' is in front of Jill's and Barry's in front of Chris'. I'll probably go back and fix this later, bear with me. Anyway, my next booboo was talking about how Leon enjoyed his job, which he probably does, but I could have mentioned how he was forced into his current position. _

_Anyway, those are my complaints about my stupid forgetfulness (I'm sure there's more). _

_So, leave feedback and tell me what you think. _

_**P.S. I'm sorry about the late upload, I've been (excuses) busy!**  
><em>


	7. Chapter 7: Beauty and the Beast

So, umm, in the last chapter, I edited it, just so I could add the oxygen mask. I started writing this chapter and realized I added a stupid oxygen mask too late. Anyway, enjoy.

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><p>Chapter 7: Forced Labor<p>

"WHAT?" Claire shouted, causing many heads to turn in her and the doctor's direction. She couldn't believe what Obilade had just suggested. "No disrespect, Doctor. But I don't think I'm exactly certifiable enough to be a nurse of any kind." _Especially when it's _him _you want me to look after. _"Besides," she pondered. "Don't I need to go through some kind of training or class in order to be certified?" Claire hoped that with this, she could squirm her way out of the situation.

Obilade chuckled, his pearly whites flashing in contrast against his dark skin. "Like I said, Miss Redfield. _We_ will train you." Claire opened her mouth to protest the insincerity of her "training," but Obilade cut her off. "Do not worry, Miss Redfield. It may come as a surprise, but most the staff working here never attended school for what they do. Being a non-governmental organization really has its benefits."

Claire began to turn this over in her head; she never knew this aspect of the Terra Save group in Africa. To her, all the staff seemed legitimate; it came as a surprise to discover that some hadn't even had any schooling in the subject considering their skill. "Okay," she chastised. "But isn't that a little unprofessional?" Claire asked, noticing the offended look that spread across the doctor's face.

"Let me put it this way. If your American troops—new recruits, straight out of training, and senior officers— were called into action to fight in a war a few days prior to the battle. Would you rather your senior officers hand your new recruits books on how to shoot a gun, or would you rather that senior officer hand the new recruits an actual gun, and take them out so that they could actually shoot the real thing?"

"Well that's hardly—"

"It is the same concept here!" He cut her off, waving his hands in the air expressively. "When this camp was erected, there were too many sick, hurt, and dying for our small staff to handle. Then because of the shortage, we began asking for volunteers. Soon, through hands-on training monitored by our professional workers, we gained an adequate amount of staff to equal that of the patients. I assure you, Miss Redfield. The volunteer staff members lacking in the educational background make up for it in the common sense, hands-on knowledge they gained from being in this camp. Some are just as skilled and deem worthy the title of _professional_ ," he emphasized the word, causing Claire's face to burn hot, "as the degree holding members." He finished, eyes staring piercingly at the redhead, daring her to insult him further.

Claire looked away timidly and noticed Abena was only an earshot in distance from herself and the doctor. Embarrassed, she focused her eyes on the ground, finding the dusty pebble once again. "But—"she began to protest, only to be silenced by a thick, cool finger pressing lightly to her lips. Her mind gasped internally and she noted how much she hated the feeling of his finger against her lips. Claire tensed, and was more than happy when Obilade removed his latex smelling hand. It was everything she could do to not instinctively grab that cold, sausage-like finger and bend it till it broke.

"That will be the end, Redfield," he said sternly. "If you refuse, I'll make sure you're on the next flight back to America. I will inform headquarters that you could be of no help any longer at the camp. Besides, I can see no problem with my proposition. What better way to put a good, healthy volunteer to use than an opportunity as…generous as this? Now…" he said, searching past Claire for someone. The redhead glanced up at Obilade and glared holes through his skull, she really disliked him right now. "Nurse Rudo!" Obilade called, and Abena made her way towards them, acting as if she hadn't been listening to their conversation the whole time. "You will begin your training today, and Nurse Rudo," he acknowledged the dark woman as she appeared beside Claire, "will teach you what you need to know. I must now tend to my patients," his Swahili accent ever so strong. "I will return shortly to further assist John Doe. Good day, Miss Redfield." Obilade then tramped off on his high horse, leaving Claire to brood over many unfinished words she wished she'd said.

_Damn pompous prick, _Claire thought nastily as she watched the doctor stalk off and disappear between two tents, his lab coat flying haughtily behind him. Just as Claire had gotten on the doctor's good side, and had actually decided to give him a try—it took a lot for someone to actually apologize for their wrong doings, Claire regarded him for that—he took her to the side, lectured her, and forced her into labor she wasn't agreeing to.

Back home, Claire was one of the more prominent members of Terra Save. She had a feeling it wasn't going to be the same way here. It was Africa. The land of corrupt governments, starving children, the world leader in AIDS, and petty war disputes. It really didn't come as a surprise that the relief group was comprised of inadequately trained personnel. The system here was obviously corrupt. Apparently in Kijuju, Claire was just an unskilled rookie under the direction and authority of an uptight doctor; too rooted into his Islamic religion (mainly comprised of male dominance) to give neither respect nor consideration to a good ole American girl. The Redfield was really opposed to being trained as nurse, or medical personnel of any kind, but she was even _more_ opposed to being sent home when she'd just gotten there; whereas all the packing, excitement, and experience (or lack of) would have been for nothing.

Claire scowled at the ground; angry at being forced to do something she_ really_ didn't wanted to do. She supposed she could report him, but then what would that do for the camp? Obilade was the only doctor within the encampment. Although he was uptight and somewhat strange (especially his behavior towards Claire just a few moments ago) he was still a hardworking and skilled doctor. Claire couldn't very well deprive the patients and staff of their doctor, and wait only God knows how long for another one to arrive.

"Great!" Claire growled. "Abena," she turned towards the nurse, took her by the shoulders, and looked pleadingly into her eyes. "I know you were listening," her grip tightened. "I can't do this! Would you please talk to Obilade? I'm sure you can convince him otherwise." Abena held up her hands, palms forward, as if to stop the pleading girl.

"Oh, Claire." Abena looked at the desperate girl apologetically. "I'm sorry, but it is not in my hands." Claire ceased harassing the nurse and removed her grip, slumping in defeat. "If I could, I would so love to help you, Claire. But with how the doctor was so insistent on it, I'm afraid I could only make things worse, and ultimately jeopardize _my_ position here." Claire only remained slumped over in defeat, feeling utterly powerless. Abena was right; Claire had no intention of causing her friend any unnecessary problems that could threaten her position.

"Was I really so obvious in my eavesdropping?" Abena worried. "I hope the doctor didn't notice it!" With that, a forced smile spread across Claire's sullen face.

"I don't think you have to worry about that. Obilade's ability to read human beings is about as good as his ability shake hands." A weird statement but true; one would assume he'd make a horrible doctor, but he was actually quite commendable. The two women broke out into a spur of laughter, the tense moment fading away. Only after Abena's desperate attempts to quite them both with many "_shh's" _did they finally stop.

After calming herself, Abena got straight to business once again. "Well, Claire. I'd say it's about time we started your training. The day is still young and we have much to do." Claire agreed reluctantly, and began to follow Nurse Rudo until she saw that they were headed back into tent number three. Claire stopped dead in her tracks. She wasn't sure why, but she was suddenly afraid to appear in the tent she had been in only moments before. Not only because the tyrant was in there and by now probably fully awake, but also because he had asked for _her_ specifically. That was it, _he knows who I am. Probably remembered everything after I left. That's why he kept asking for me…_

"What are we doing?" it came out more nervously than she wanted. " I thought we were going to start my training?"

"And that's exactly what we're doing," Abena smiled "How better to start your training, than with the patient you'll be spending the most time with? It's also convenient that this patient needs tending to at the moment, as well as the other criticals within the unit." With that Abena made her way into the enclosure, and Claire followed after on heavy legs, making sure to stay behind the tall dark woman and out of view from Wesker. Claire followed so closely she could see the brown scalp through Abena's short, kinky hair. That's when Abena stopped abruptly and Claire ran into her back, causing the African woman to let out a grunt of surprise.

"Claire!" Abena laughed. "What are you doing? You act like a child walking on her mother's heels."

Claire's whole body tensed. "Sorry. I don't know what I was thinking," she apologized_. Great, Claire. You just had to go making her say your name. Why don't you go up and stress each syllable slowly to him. Go ahead, reassure him that his most hated enemies' sister is right there in front of him._

Abena dismissed Claire's queer behavior and made her way towards Wesker, who Claire noticed, seemed to be resting. She watched his steady breathing aided by the oxygen mask still placed firmly over his mouth.

"Excuse me, Sir?" Abena prodded, and Wesker's eyes slid open lazily. "I'm really sorry to bother you, Sir. But there are a few tests we must do, and you need to be awake in order to do them. Can you indicate that you understand what I'm saying?" Wesker's eyes slid shut, and he gave one simple, stiff nod before Abena continued. "In a couple of minutes, Nurse Redfield here will ask you a series of simple questions and have you perform simple tasks." Abena turned to Claire, whose skin was a clammy white color. "Claire, are you feeling OK?"

"I'm fine," Claire said, although it sounded a little unconvincing. "Really," Claire smiled, easing the worried look on Abena's face.

"If you're sure…I'm going to get the questions for you to go over with the patient. Stay here, and make sure he doesn't go back to sleep. It can be very stressful on him." Abena turned back to Wesker and placed one of her tanned hands on his pale shoulder "Sir, you must stay awake." Wesker's eyes slid open once more, and with that, Abena left the tent, leaving Claire alone with the tyrant once again.

Claire gazed at the previously comatose man. Her cerulean blue eyes followed the multitude of tubing extending from machines and into various places on Wesker's body. The respirator connected to his air ways, fluids pouring into his veins in his arms and hands, and the pulse oximeter attached to his finger. Claire would never have dreamed she'd see someone like him in such a state. He was weak, he was vulnerable, and a crazy realization occurred to the redheaded girl that Albert Wesker truly was _human_. She felt pity for him. Not necessarily sympathy one would feel for a friend or a starving child, but she pitied him because of who he was. Once extremely powerful, seemingly indestructible—and in this case, he still was. Especially after surviving two RPG-7's to the skull after being plunged into the fiery pits of Mt. Kilimanjaro—and once holding the lives of 6 billion people within his grasp. Wesker now appeared to be nothing more than an injured man in an extremely hot hospital ward, and if his condition wasn't convincing enough, then his eyes surely worked to assure that notion.

_No, if anything, this just proves his lack of humanity even more! How the hell could someone survive something like that? _And Claire was right. Even though Wesker's lesser human traits weren't visible on the surface didn't mean that that which made him inhuman wasn't still present within his body; perhaps incubating in a dormant form, waiting to resurface into something horrible when the tyrant regained his strength. Claire theorized that though the Progenitor virus she read about many years ago may be gone for good, the obvious one that remained was the Uroboros virus (seeing as how he seemingly regenerated from nothing and originally came covered in that sticky black stuff). There was no way for Claire to be sure of any of this though, because she knew very little about either virus.

But in reality Claire realized the unimportance of all of this. What was important was the fact that Wesker was alive, awake, and although not so dangerous presently, he would with no doubt be in the future. The gutsy Redfield knew she had to do something about it, but now that the option of her ending his life was pretty much out of the question. She couldn't altogether be sure of what to do in the current situation. Claire knew she needed to call Chris, she was through keeping such a detrimental secret. Now Claire realized how stupid she was to think she could handle it in the first place, all she did was bide more time for Wesker, and threaten the safety of many individuals.

Wesker's breathing began to deepen; his chest rose and fell in short intervals with every breath as he began to slip back into sleep.

**"**_**Stay here, make sure he doesn't go back to sleep…"**_

_Shit!_ Claire thought as she approached Wesker's bedside. Claire extended her hand to shake the drowsy man awake—w_hy do you even care? _Claire faltered and withdrew her hand, but dismissed the voice. Instead, she yelled loudly_. _"Hey, wake up!" Wesker's eyes opened and he glared up at Claire irritated. She returned a scowl back down in his direction. "You heard Nurse Rudo," Claire badgered him. "You have to be _awake_ for these tests."

"Fine," Wesker's voice came out a little weakly from lack of use, and muffled from the mask. "If it pleases you, water girl, I'll see what I can do."

"Water girl?" Claire felt her cheeks burning._ If you weren't…_ "I'll have you know, _John_, I'm a CNA at this encampment," Claire said, placing her hands on her hips. _Well that was stupid. A CNA, what an accomplishment._

"Ah, that's right. Nurse _Redfield_, was it?" Claire's skin crawled. He was obviously more alert than she realized. Newly acclaimed Nurse Redfield did not like the sound of her name (last or otherwise) coming out of his mouth, it was almost enough to make her shrink. The blood began to run from Claire's face, but dispelling her anxiety, she gained control of herself once again. He wasn't going to get the best of her, not when she had the upper hand.

Claire couldn't be sure, but she thought she saw a brief smug expression cross over Wesker's continence. _Just like the old Wesker I met back on Rockfort…_ This small, brief expression was all the convincing Claire needed to be sure that he was aware of the situation, and not only knew who he was himself but also knew who she was. This idea caused both fear and anger in Claire, she couldn't figure out why he was putting on this ruse, but she was determined to discover what Wesker was playing at.

"Why did you request me personally?" she asked angrily. "Is it part of one of your demented plans?" Claire was pretty sure he had some kind of plan up his sleeve. The Redfield was fixed on doing whatever she could to stop him, too.

Wesker's brow furrowed and he gave Claire a look that said she was the weirdest thing he'd ever laid eyes on; which Claire probably would have found funny in another situation. "I merely asked because I felt comfortable around you, seeing as how you were here when I woke up," he answered honestly.

"There's no point in lying, I know you know" she spat. "So you can stop the act."

Wesker only continued to stare up at Claire with his brow furrowed. He was confused beyond comprehension. Wesker may have been more aware and alert than most patients waking from a comatose episode, but his response and thinking patterns were still disheveled and cluttered. Like most coma patients (although he was only out for a short time), there were times when it would take him a while to comprehend things, and at other times, he wasn't able to fully understand anything at all, much less express what he needed to say. This situation the redheaded nurse was putting him in while asking bizarre questions and making strange accusations to go along with them was causing much stress on his tired mind. His mind was becoming clouded and disorderly. Straining to remember or understand was surely causing some kind of pain he remembered to be called a, _headache,_ in his right temple.

Claire continued to stare down at Wesker awaiting an answer as he fought to gain some kind of comprehension. The longer she gazed upon his expression, the more she began to feel guilty regret. When he looked away from her gaze in concentration, it only became clearer to her.

"You…really don't remember anything, do you?" She hesitated, looking down ashamed.

"No," he mused. "But you seem to be aware of something I'm not." Claire's eyes shot up to meet his. "Do you know whom I am, Nurse Redfield?"

"I-uh…" Claire stammered. She couldn't very well tell him who he was, that would be disastrous, and downright moronic. After she had assumed that he was fully aware of whom he was, and after she'd stupidly demonstrated that she had some sort of knowledge about him, Claire hadn't realized the pickle she'd be in if her assumptions proved wrong. She couldn't come up with any viable excuse or lie to give to Wesker. Yet, he was still waiting for an answer, and Claire was trying desperately to find one. "Umm, you see…Well-we—"

"Here you are, Claire," said a familiar voice from behind the Redfield, which caused her to jump. Abena appeared beside Claire and promptly handed her a clipboard full of papers, with a pin neatly tucked underneath the clip. "Are you two getting to know each other?" She smiled from Claire to Wesker and back to Claire again.

Claire nodded, turned to Abena and gave her a sweet smile.

"That's good. Nurse Redfield, all you need to do is simply go through the list. Here," said Abena taking hold of one of the curtains made to extend around the bed. "I will close this so that nothing disturbs Mr. Doe. If you need me I'll be across the room tending to the others." After closing the curtains, Abena disappeared to tend to the other two comatose patients, leaving Claire to her business, _alone_.

Claire wasn't sure why Wesker hadn't made any comment to Abena. Just a few moments ago would have been the perfect opportunity for him to expose Claire and her dishonesty of withholding information that she knew and no one else seemed to be aware of. She had a strange feeling she was about to find out why.

"So," Claire sighed. "Let's get started, shall we?"

"Of course, but would you mind taking this bothersome mask off?"

"What?" _I'd rather not_. "Oh…sure." Claire complied, and went to remove the oxygen mask _once again_ from Wesker's face. She bent slightly, grasped the mask and slid it up over his blond head. She hated being so close to him. The last time they were in such close proximity, (aside from earlier) Claire was thrown around like some kind of ragdoll, completely powerless to his superhuman strength.

"You know, Claire." Wesker whispered so that only she could hear him. This caused an involuntary shivery to race up Claire's spine. "You can't keep what you know a secret forever. For some reason, you're withholding what you know about me from everyone, including myself. Though I'm not certain why, there must be very important reasoning behind your decision. But be warned, Nurse Redfield, the longer you wait, the more apt I will be to inform that doctor that seems so intent on making a fool of you. Understood?" Claire returned to an upright position, trying to gain a hold of herself. Wesker may have been suffering from amnesia, but somehow he still maintained his cunning way with words, and ability to manipulate one's emotions. This time, turning confidence, into fear.

"We should get started with the comprehension examination," said Claire, as she pulled the pin out from the clipboard and clicked down on the button so that the point emerged from the tip.

Wesker made no further comment on the subject and went along with the questions Claire administered to him. Most, perhaps all, of the questions were simple, many were elementary level. Eventually they got to mathematical questions and Wesker answered them all accurately without hesitation. His brain had clearly not lost much of its basic intelligence, but when it pertained to things such as his name, where he was from, or what he was for that matter, he displayed absolutely no memory. Claire wasn't sure if he remembered anything aside from basic mathematical principles or proper grammar, but it would relieve her greatly to know that he couldn't recall anything of the viruses and monsters he helped create. Of which he didn't at the moment. His mind was slowly but surely reawakening and time would only help it develop more. Besides, what individual could remember everything after going through such a slow and excruciating process of regeneration? Wesker went from almost nothing, to a fully regenerated copy of a live being in a matter of minutes, proving to be a truly miraculous event. Remembering as much as he did was an amazing feat in itself.

Once Claire and Wesker completed the comprehension examination, they moved on to the next task. The physical examination. This only required minimal movement, and Claire was relieved she didn't have to touch him in any way for this part. Strangely though, when it came to these small tasks, Wesker had a very hard time making his body do what he desperately wanted it to. Claire asked him to wiggle his toes, which seemed to twitch once, but other than that there were no further results. The redhead then asked him to perform a simple fingertip touch exercise she'd seen one of her friends with carpal tunnel perform a few years ago. Claire instructed him on how to do it by taking her fingers, and touching the tip of each to the tip of her thumb. The blond then tried this, and after some time of struggling to touch each stiff finger on his left hand to his thumb, he succeeded.

"Now you need to do the same thing with your right hand," Claire said while reading the list and jotting down some notes. Wesker obeyed and attempted the same action with his right hand, but this hand proved to be more difficult. By the time he reached his third finger his frustration had grown immensely, and before long, he let out an irritated growl of dissatisfaction.

"Damn!" Wesker hissed. Claire could only stare at the frustrated tyrant, unable to extinguish her pity for him. "Why are such simple tasks so difficult?" He demanded of Claire, which reminded her humorously—and she probably would have laughed if they were better acquainted, weren't sworn enemies, and she didn't fear having her heart ripped out from her chest—of the Beasts frustration towards Bell when she refused to join him for dinner. But the humorous thought quickly vanished when, for a fleeting moment, Claire thought she saw the shadow of a familiar red gleam flash behind Wesker's blue eyes.

"Is something the matter?" Abena's concerned voice asked as she popped her head through the curtains.

* * *

><p><em>So my readers, I felt really bad for not uploading in such a long time, and decided I needed to give you all a little bit of something. Sorry this chapter stops abruptly, but with how school has started back and all, I can't update as much as I'd like, and I really felt like I needed to post something. <em>

_Anyway, I have a few fun facts: Dr. Obilade is really my public speaking professor, he really is from Africa, and man does he smell like armpits. Also, his first name is Tony (I can't believe I forgot his name), I think I'll change that in the previous chapters so that I can call him that later on._

_I'm sorry for grammatical errors in this chapter, I know there are many. _

_So long, I hope I can update within two to three weeks, if I wait longer, I'd probably have withdraws from writing, and I'd feel like a complete schmuck._

_**Okay! So I can't sleep because I had a crazy revelation like two hours ago, and I felt like I needed to inform my readers. All I can say is, while I was watching Cowboys and Aliens, is when this great idea came to me. Be ready for the next chapter because there will be twists and action you won't want to miss. All the more for you to crave the story. Well, since I've had this crazy idea (I was stuck before, until I finished this chapter) my readers can expect a new chapter waaay before previously mentioned, cause I want to get this out of my mind so bad! Anyway! Aufweidersehen!**  
><em>


	8. Chapter 8: Uneventful Day

**Okay, so I just had to do a little editing on this chapter. **

* * *

><p>Chapter 8: Uneventful Day<p>

"Is something the matter?" Abena asked while poking her head through the curtains. Both Claire and Wesker's heads turned simultaneously in the dark woman's direction.

"Uh..."Claire stole a quick glance at Wesker, who had turned his gaze back down to his malfunctioning phalanges. "Mr. Doe seems to be having difficulty with his motor skills."

"Is that so?" Abena emerged from behind the curtains. "Where are the problems?"

"Well, after I asked him—the patient—to wiggle his toes, he did…but they hardly moved. It was the same thing with the finger-touch exercise. He fully completed his left hand, with difficulty, but he couldn't go any further on his right hand." Claire finished and awaited Abena's reply.

"Hmm…This is a problem," Abena finally said. "Sir," Wesker turned his dark gaze towards the woman in nurses' scrubs, "we can't be sure for now, but depending on the degree of your immobility, you may have to undergo some type of physical therapy. On the other hand, this may just be a result of stiffened joints because of lack of use and lack of oxygen. But like I said, we can't be sure, not until we are able to determine the real reason."

Wesker's eyes transfixed on his thin, light-blue sheet (dampened from sweat) and Claire could see his frustration growing with every passing second.

The "patient" or "John Doe" as everyone was calling him, wasn't sure why but every word the redhead and tall, dark woman in front of him said, only caused him to grow more irritated and impatient. He really hated the fact that both nurses saw him as some kind of incompetent or feeble human being. Wesker wasn't sure why this bothered him so badly, but it did.

Abena recognized "Mr. Doe's" frustration. She'd witnessed it too many times before from past experiences to know when a patient was getting upset because of his or her (mainly his) situation. "Mr. Doe" appeared to be having difficulty holding off some kind of temper tantrum that was apt to happen if she didn't do something soon. A tantrum was the last thing that needed to occur, something like that could cause way too much strain on an already fatigued patient. She wasn't really in the mood to deal with a tantrum either.

"Do not be so disheartened, Mr. Doe. Every comatose patient experiences some degree of immobility. Although, in a worst case scenario, you could have suffered some kind of brain damage. I'll recommend to the doctor to schedule you for an MRI, that way we can narrow down the possibilities…"

Abena went on to inform Wesker of what he should expect for the next two days. She told him that he would probably still be receiving his fluids and nutrients from IV's, and that he could expect stiffened joints anywhere from a few hours, to a few days.

To Claire, Wesker looked as if he was only half listening, the other half of him seemed to be somewhere else. She couldn't imagine how angry he'd be if he was aware of who he was. Nevertheless, his personality hadn't changed much at all.

"…Nurse Redfield and I will leave you to rest now. The doctor should arrive shortly." Wesker made no indication that he heard the African woman, so Abena turned to Claire and nodded for them to leave. Claire followed Abena out of the small enclosure. Before leaving, Abena grasped the curtain and began to pull it back, when Wesker finally spoke up and told her to leave it. Abena fulfilled this wish, not wanting to agitate him further, and left the curtains pulled closed. She then motioned for Claire to follower her out of the tent.

Claire was relieved to escape the tense atmosphere that amnesic Wesker was causing within the loud, hot tent consisting of only three patients. She'd been ready to leave the moment she entered.

Wesker's company was something the Redfield strongly detested. She couldn't wait for the day to be over so that she could go home to her private abode to call Chris and inform him of Wesker's return.

"Mr. Doe seems to have quite a temper."

"What?" Claire awoke from her daze. "Oh, yeah, that goes without saying…." If there was anything Claire was sure of, it was that.

The two women made their way past rows of white tents, soiled by the dry, African dirt. Abena pulled out some sort of paging device from her belt and spoke Swahili into the mouth piece. The voice of Dr. Obilade, Claire easily distinguished, responded from the black device, and Abena tucked the pager back into its slot. They cut between two tents and emerged only before another row of tents. Claire soon found herself wondering back to tent three, but this time she wasn't thinking about Wesker, but the other two patients. Seeing how Wesker was, she wondered how the other two patients happened to be in the intensive care unit of the camp. Both appeared to still be in coma's, and Claire wondered how long they'd been there.

"Abena, what happened to the other two patients in tent three?" she figured it was as good a question as any.

Abena's face saddened. "Those two are the last survivors within the camp of the purging. We had over two hundred patients infected with Plagas type two and three. Each underwent the surgery to remove the parasites, but in the end only a few survived the surgery. We supposed because the parasitic progression was too advanced…Others died after the surgery. They're bodies just couldn't handle it. The two you saw in the tent are having difficulty recovering."

"That's horrible. All these viruses and parasites do is harm hundreds of innocent people. It makes me wish I were out in the field like Leon, working to eradicate such things off the face of the planet." _All the more reason to get rid of Wesker once and for all_—

"Leon?" an inquisitive smile plastered on the nurses face.

"Oh," Claire blushed, "He's just a friend back home. You may get to meet him soon, if what he told me remains in effect."

"It would be a pleasure to meet Miss Claire's boyfriend."

"Oh, no! He's not my boyfriend."

"Boyfriend or not, I'll be happy to meet him! Now, this way, Claire. Doctor Obilade is within this tent."

Claire followed Abena into the tent. She really had no interest in seeing the doctor after such a short amount of time since that mornings encounter. She decided she'd go off to the side somewhere and let Abena speak with the doctor. There was no reason for her to get involved in the oncoming conversation.

Once inside, Abena quickly spotted Obilade, who was using a stethoscope on a young boy of about seven, and made her way to him. Claire stood off to the corner and observed the contents of the tent. This must have been the children's unit because every bed that wasn't vacant contained children of various ages, while even more children were up and out of bed occupying themselves with different activities. Claire supposed most of them were now orphans. The world really was cruel. _No_, _people are cruel. _

That's when Claire spotted a tall, brown-haired, Caucasian male with distinguishing glasses, writing on a clipboard. The spectacled man looked up and met Claire's gaze, he promptly tucked the clip board under his arm and came towards Claire with his hand extended and a smile spread across his face.

"It's so nice to meet you, Claire Redfield!" he took hold of Claire's hand and shook it vigorously. "I'm David Ryan, I also worked with Terra Save in the Harvardville outbreak."

Claire's spirits rose at the mention of something familiar. "It's nice to meet you too, David." she smiled pleasantly.

"I heard you got in sometime yesterday. I would have introduced myself sooner, but I was out doing field work. Anyway, how are you liking it here so far?"

"It's-um, been eventful." there was no use in complaining to a stranger. But David seemed to see right through it.

"That bad, huh? Let me guess, it has something to do with a certain doctor?" he whispered behind his hand, while flashing a charming grin. Claire nodded in return with a shy smile.

"How did you know?"

"Let's just say I heard about a certain incident involving flying icepacks after the new patient was brought in."

"Oh, you heard about that?" The redhead looked down embarrassed.

David let out a genuine laugh and patted Claire on the shoulder. "Don't worry about it, Claire. Worse things have happened." Which was true, but it didn't change the fact that Claire made a horrible first impression on Obilade. "Anyway," David glanced down at his silver watch, "I have to get back to work. Listen, if you feel the need to talk to someone who can actually speak proper English, aside from Nurse Rudo, feel free to come find me. We can talk about the finer things in life, like the weather or something."

"Sure. It was nice meeting you, David."

"Likewise," David gave a charismatic wink. "See you around, Claire." He then left to carry on with his work.

Claire was pleased to have met someone who was a former member of Terra Save, who was from American, and who could actually speak her kind of English. The guy seemed charismatic, and charming, and Claire wouldn't mind getting to know him better. Perhaps they could talk about things, like Obilade's undying rudeness.

Abena soon appeared before Claire, and they headed out once again. For the remainder of the day, Claire mainly followed Abena around and "shadowed" her. Which Abena said would be the best route for Claire to go for her first day. Other than shadowing, Claire brought supplies and such to Abena.

Claire supposed this was partly what nursing assistants were for, being gophers. That and making sure that the patients were clean. Of which Abena mentioned to Claire later in the day. Claire quickly refused that aspect of being a nurse after she imagined herself having the task of bathing Albert Wesker. She'd much rather inject _herself_ with a syringe full of air than do that. Abena laughed at Claire's vehement refusal and told her it would be okay, that someone else could be assigned that task. At least Abena acknowledged the fact that Claire didn't want to be a nurse in the first place. Certain tasks would be out of the question for such a refractory subordinate.

The day started to pass by quicker than Claire previously expected. The sun once hanging high, illuminating the earth with bright, sweltering light, began to decline, causing the sky to glow in warm reds, yellows, and oranges. The temperature was dropping, which Claire was thankful for even though she was pretty sure she was starting to adapt to the hot climate of Tanzania.

In spite of Claire's bitter attitude that morning, as the day went on she actually found herself enjoying it. Although she admittedly would rather be out in the field, as in exploring Africa, providing aid, she thought she could get used to being a CNA, and perhaps even grow to enjoy it. In fact, Claire realized later on how big of a deal she made out of the doctors proposal. In truth, she'd only really resisted because of whom she was assigned to look after. Nevertheless, that would all be over soon.

Claire glanced down at her phone, it was already almost six o'clock, which told her there probably wasn't much time left before she got off duty. She stuffed her phone back in her pocket and looked at Abena. They were inside of one of the storage buildings beside Obilade's office/house. Abena was searching through one of the white medicine cabinets trying to find various medications that had been prescribed to Wesker by Obilade earlier that morning. Wesker had already undergone the MRI scan, but apparently Obilade seemed to not excel in reading brain scans. So they had to send the MRI to a neurologist in another city, which would cause about a days delay for them to receive the results.

_Only that's not going to matter_…Which rang true. Claire was determined to have Wesker gone for good before those results could arrive, and even after they arrived, the diagnosis would be invalid. The Redfield was eager for the day to be over with so she could call her older brother, who probably wouldn't be awake until about nine pm her time. The misfortune of time zones.

Claire ran her hand through her lose, auburn bangs as a familiar voice crept into her head. _"No way…He won't come. You'll just end up disappointed if you rely on others!…" Steve?_ It wasn't all too rare for Claire to recall her time spent with Steve Burnside so long ago, but why had she thought of those words in particular?

***************SC

"Miss Wong, come in," came a smooth voice from a figure obscured by the large, tanned leather chair he was sitting in. Ada entered the dim room, and transfixed her eyes upon the back of the chair. She hoped that whatever it was, that it was good enough to wake her up at three o'clock in the morning.

"A certain mole in Tanzania has enlightened us on rather chilling…but nevertheless, enthralling information." This automatically perked Ada's interest. She knew the noteworthy Chris Redfield's little sister (a.k.a. Leon's lady friend) was in Tanzania at the moment, Ada wondered if it had anything to do with her.

"It would seem, a certain someone who we thought to be dead, has cheated death for the second time." It only took mere seconds for this to register, and then Ada felt every hair on her body stand on end. "We need you to return to Ohio and stomp out a few pesky bugs. We have to be the first ones to get to him; we can't allow anyone to jeopardize our chances. Do you know what to do?"

"Of course."

"Then you may go." Ada turned and opened the door to leave—

"Ada…" The Asian woman froze with her hand on the knob. "You're our most trusted agent, do not disappoint," said the figure with finality. With that, Ada left.

As she raced to the roof to board the helicopter that would be awaiting her, only one distinctive though ran through her mind. _Wesker's…alive._

**********************Chris

Chris awoke early that morning from nightmares (yes, even Chris Redfield has those) and his, yet again, blood encrusted nose. This was the first time he'd actually had a dream about Wesker since he and Jill got back home. This dream was a haunting concept: _The tyrant grabbed hold of their evacuation helicopter with those horrible tentacles, and instead of Chris and his partner ending Wesker's life, they were pulled to their death into the hot lava pits, where Wesker emerged unharmed._

Chris untangled himself from Jill, _we really need to start sleeping in a bed_, and popped his aching neck. Checking his phone_, _Chris saw that it was only about five o'clock; he hated waking up so early. The Redfield decided that since he was already up, he might as well go take a shower.

Once inside the bathroom, he looked at his reflection in the mirror and noticed the bruising and dried blood flaking around and under his nose. Using a damp rag, Chris dabbed at his damaged nose and winched in pain when the warm cloth hit it. _Screw this_, he sighed. _I have enough time, think I'll swing by the doctors' before I go to work. _Making this his final thought, Chris quickly got ready and made himself presentable enough to go out in public.

Chris grabbed his keys off the key ring and his jacket off the replaced coat rack before closing the front door softly behind him. The air was damp with rain and putrid with the smell of wet soil. Forgetting his younger sister's promise to call him that morning, Chris jumped in his Jeep, cranked the engine, and headed off down the dark, wet road.

After about ten minutes of winding his way around curves, his phone vibrated and began to chime in his pants pocket. He reached in his pocket. Fingering the slick outer covering of his cell phone, he finally pulled it free, but to his frustration, it fell into the floorboard at his feet.

"Great…" Chris mumbled, while leaning down and fumbling around for the phone with one hand as his other gripped the steering wheel.

Chris glanced out the widow, making sure there were no cars before looking down and finally spotting his phone; which still chimed loudly by his right foot. He grasped it within his hand and returned to an upright position. However, before he could push the talk button, he gasped, his heart skipped a beat, and he slammed on his breaks only to skid across the wet pavement. His jeep squealed in dissatisfaction as he fought to regain control of the wheel. But the speeding truck resisted, turning parallel to the large, black bear within his path. And before he knew it, he impacted with something hard, slid off the road, and his vehicle was barreling through the air.

Lying motionless in a ditch about twenty feet away from his demolished Jeep, the last thing Chris Redfield remembered was trying to reach his cell phone, which lay ringing in a patch of tall, wet grass.

****************Claire

Later that evening, Claire was on her way back home in Abena's old mongrel pickup once again. After the two got all the supplies they (or rather, Abena) needed from the storage building, they left to administer to Wesker his medications. This is where Claire decided to remain outside, and out of Wesker's view.

Throughout the rest of the time Claire spent at the encampment she continued to think of Steve, and later couldn't help but realize how disorganized the camp truly was. The whole day she'd witnessed certain personnel doing things that wouldn't go unnoticed at a Terra Save camp in America. She'd never seen a medical facility be so lenient and lack so greatly in the safety department. For example: they left the supply buildings unlocked at all times, and the medicine cabinets open for anyone to get in to. Claire found this dangerous and was surprised that the camp didn't enforce stricter safety measures; any average idiot had access to the supplies and could use them for any purpose. Perhaps malintent. In retrospect, hadn't Claire been the one to snatch up one of the easily accessible syringes with the intent of causing a patient harm?

Claire wondered if the camp had always been disorganized, or if over time, after everyone became more comfortable (as people do when they become well acquainted with an environment), they began to get sloppy. Realizing she'd probably never know the answer to that question, she let it go.

The Redfield was relieved that the day was over so she could call Chris, and she bet Abena was more than happy to finally have the inexperienced-shadow out of her hair. Although Abena would kindly deny it, Claire knew she slowed the nurse down and got in the way of her normal routine.

Claire gazed out the window, unable to see anything through the black curtain that hung over Africa at that late hour. "…_You'll just end up disappointed if you rely on others!" _There it was again. Ever since Steve's voice had popped up in her head earlier that evening, she hadn't been able to rid herself of it. Claire couldn't imagine why her mind kept wandering back to those words. Perhaps her interaction with the recently revived Wesker prompted such thoughts. Besides, the last time she saw Wesker was back at the Antarctic Lab, which was also the last place she saw Steve.

Claire now recalled something she'd not really forgotten about, but pushed to the back of her mind over the years. There was a slight possibility that Steve was still alive. It was none other than Albert Wesker himself that removed Steve's body from the lab before its destruction so that he could use her long lost friend for his own, selfish purposes. That was another reason Wesker had to be stopped. At one time he had her friend Steve, and presumably after Wesker got what he needed, he disposed of him. Claire despised Wesker for this, and for that (among other reasons) she wanted him dead. Perhaps that was why she was thinking about Steve, she wanted to avenge him.

It wasn't long before Claire and Abena arrived at the small cottage. Abena informed Claire that her neighbor would be taking her to the camp the following morning. After they expressed their goodbye's, Claire trudged into her house on tired legs.

She hadn't realized until _after_ she got off her feet how tired she actually was. Who knew mere shadowing could be so exhausting?

After changing into a loose T-shirt and sleeping shorts, Claire removed her hair tie, allowing her dark auburn hair to fall freely past her shoulders. Picking up her phone from the night stand, Claire merely gazed at it's sleek cover. She eventually made her way outside and stood on the front porch, waiting for the signal to pick up.

"Here goes," she sighed, after scrolling through her phone for Chris's number. She pressed the call button and awaited the voice of her brother on the other line…but no answer came. _That's weird, maybe he's not around his cell._ Scrolling through her contacts list once again, Claire stopped on 'HOME' and pressed the call button.

This time an answer came, but not from who she expected.

"Hello?" Jill yawned on the other end.

"Jill, I'm sorry. Did I wake you?"

"No, it's fine. What's up?"

"Not a lot. Listen," Claire hesitated. "Can I talk to Chris, it's really important and he wasn't answering his ph—"

"Oh I'm sorry, Claire, but he already left. That's weird that he didn't answer his phone though," Jill said more to herself than to Claire. "Maybe he went to the hospital-"

"The hospital! Why would he be at the hospital?" The concern in her voice almost tangible.

"Calm down, Claire. He's okay. I just…might have broken his nose by accident."

"How the—"

"It-it's a long story."

"I won't ask," Claire laughed.

"Anyway, is there anything you can tell me so that I can pass it on to Chris?"

Now that was a question to be considered. Claire soon realized that the harder it was becoming for her to get a hold of Chris, the more she wanted to put off informing him of Wesker. Deciding that she'd already wasted valuable time previously by not telling anyone sooner about Wesker the moment she knew it was him, she decided to proceed.

"Th-There is, Jill," she began. "You see. I really should have told Chris, or you, or anyone really, the moment I found this out. I just, didn't know how…Now I realize that not telling anyone was the stupidest thing I've ever done."

Acknowledging the stress and regret Claire must have been feeling over what ever she failed to tell her brother, Jill tried to comfort her. " It's okay, Claire. I'm sure whatever it is, you had good reason not to tell anyone."

"Other than the fact that I wanted to take care of it myself, not really." There was silence on both ends. "Listen, Jill. I don't know how to say this in any other way, than to just say it how it is...Albert Wesker. He's alive."

Jill's grip tightened around the phone, turning her knuckles white. "Y-you're sure?"

"Undeniably sure. He's here, Jill. In the camp."

"WHAT? Why did you keep that from us?"

"I'm telling you now! Besides, he has amnesia or something."

"He's a patient there?" Jill exclaimed.

"Yes. He's not posing as a threat though. He doesn't remember anything, and it's not like he's going anywhere. The important thing is, that someone gets him before he does."

"You're right, Claire. I'm sorry. Listen, I'll get a hold of Chris. In the mean time," she instructed. "You need to contact the B.S.A.A.'s West African branch, preferably Sheva. It may take them a while to get there, but not as long as it would for us."

"Okay, but I don't have their contact information."

"I'll give it to you."

"Jill, wait. I don't think it's such a good idea to have West Africa's B.S.A.A. come in the middle of the night out of no where. I mean, nobody knows. Well, nobody besides you."

"Claire, I don't think you realize how important this is!"

"Yes I do. Trust me, the way Wesker is he won't be going anywhere for a while. I don't see how putting it off until the morning, at the least, could hurt anything. That way everyone has time to figure out what's going on."

Jill was quiet on the other end, deeply considering what Claire had said. "Okay," she signed. "I'll go to headquarters and inform them of the situation. I'll have the director inform the West African branch so that we can construct some kind of plan before we jump the gun. I'll _try_ to persuade them to hold off until the morning, but I can't make any promises."

"Thank you, Jill."

"Don't thank me just yet...Chris really isn't going to be happy about his."

"…I know, but thank you."

"No problem. Well, I'll call you when I can."

After Jill hung up, Claire returned back into the comfort of her small home. She was glad to have gotten it over with. Although, she hadn't accomplished much. Jill would do the rest and inform Claire of everything else eventually.

Now it was time for Claire to finally lay down and receive much needed sleep. However, when she was situated comfortably in her bed, her need for rest was interrupted by anxiety. Claire began to wonder if her convincing Jill to wait until the morning to proceed with any plans wasn't such a good idea after all. Her mind kept going to certain scenarios where Wesker regained his memory and strength, and after slaughtering everyone within the encampment in a blind rage, he escaped from their grasp.

She eventually had to physically bop herself in the head to stop the ridiculous scenarios. Yet, still unable to sleep, Claire decided to read the book she brought along with her until she could.

Crawling towards the end of her bed, Claire reached down and grasped her carry-on bag. But upon trying to unzip the biggest pocket, her fingers slipped from the pull and came away covered in some sticky, black substance.

"What is this?" but she realized what it was before she asked, and upon closer inspection, she could see that the substance seemed to be grasping at her skin. In a panic, Claire tossed the bag in the floor and jumped up, rushing to the bathroom to wash the residue down the drain. She frantically scrubbed at her hands with soap and hot water until her hands turned red. _How did that stuff get on my bag?_ That's when she realized, _it was in the truck bed with him. _

Making an instinctive decision, Claire left the hot water running as she went back into her bedroom to empty the contents of her bag; being careful not to touch the black stuff. After wrapping the bag in a towel, Claire placed it inside the kitchen trash bin. Going into her room to make sure the black substance hadn't found its way onto any of her other belongings, she returned with a book of matches in her hand, and after retrieving the trash bin, Claire made her way outside.

Claire stood outside, gazing down at the fire that danced shadows across her face. Making absolutely sure that every bit of it was burned before she could return inside. Little did Claire know, that she was already too late. Because, you see, one of Tanzania's many rodents had already stumbled upon the virus hours ago. Time could only reveal the horrors Claire would soon face.

*************Jill

After her phone call ended with Claire. Jill attempted to call Chris multiple times to no avail. She then called B.S.A.A. headquarters to ask if he'd shown up at work yet (since it was time for him to clock in), but Parker Luciani—who had transferred recently to the North American branch; though Jill had no inclination as to why— informed her worriedly that Chris hadn't arrived yet. Jill tried a few more times to contact Chris before she decided to take action. It just wasn't like him to ignore so many phone calls, no matter where he was, Chris eventually answer, especially when it seemed so urgent and from the house phone. _Something's wrong, I can feel it._ Call it woman's intuition, or anything else, but something definitely was wrong.

Needless to say, Jill was out the door in nothing but her pajamas and in her car before you could say 'Zombie.' All the while she continued to call Chris' cell, desperately wishing he'd pick up. By that time the sun was finally beginning to peek above the horizon, and the rain had depleted into a drizzle. Jill raced down the road well over the speed limit, and although she was cool on the exterior, inside, her panic was growing. Taking the curves slower, Jill continued to race down the winding road, when she passed—realizing too late what it was—a cop. It wasn't a second before the sirens began to wail and blue lights flashed in her rearview mirror.

With a growl, Jill pulled over on the side of the road. The cop parked and got out slowly, _can't he go any faster_! He then proceeded towards Jill's vehicle, gun in hand, and motioned for her to roll down her window.

"Remove your key's from the ignition and lay them in the passenger seat and put your hands on the steering wheel!" Jill complied, doing as she was told, and the cop returned his gun to its holster. "Lady, do ya realize how fuck'n fast you was going down this road? Y' must be crazy or on somthin'!"

"Officer, I really don't have time for this. I'm a member of the B.S.A.A., I'm sure you can let me go."

"Are y' now?" he scoffed. "I'm gonna have to see some ID."

Jill's jaw clinched, _give me a break_, but she presented her ID like he asked.

"Well, well. You're a genuine member…Nevertheless, I can't have you racin' down a road like this, especially after that mess we had to clean up this morning'"

Jill's heart sank into her stomach. "What mess?"

He glanced away from Jill's ID and to her face for a second before returning back to the ID. "Some poor sap ran into a black bear. I tell ya," there was the sound of an approaching vehicle…A motorcycle, perhaps. "black bears've been showin' up all over the place. It's becomin'—What the hell?" The cop looked up at an approaching street bike that slowed to a stop beside his cruiser.

Jill glanced in her side view mirror and saw a slim figure get off the bike, clad in black from head-to-toe.

"Ma'am, I'm gonna have to ask you to get back on you're vehicle and be on your way." The woman in black proceeded forward, ignoring the cop. The cop began to draw his weapon, but before he could even remove it from it's holster, the figure drew her own weapon and fired. Although whatever weapon it was made little to no sound, the cop fell where he stood.

_Move,_ Jill thought as the figure advanced towards her. Jill grabbed the keys from the passenger seat, but before she could start the ignition, she heard a faint _swoop_ sound like something being sucked through a straw, and felt a sharp pain in the side of her neck. Fighting with all her might, Jill eventually succumbed to the overpowering effect of the tranquilizer embedded in her neck.

* * *

><p><em>So there you have it! I'm sorry it took so long to post another chapter, but I have legit been sooo busy, it's crazy! <em>

_Anyway, a few things. 1. So my microsoft word ran out on my computer, and I haven't bought the new version yet, so please excuse the grammatical errors (somewhat due to my laziness and sleep deprivation)and such. 2.** SPOILER SPOILER!** I'm informed too late that Director O'Brian stepped down from his position. Thanks a lot capcom for not coming out with revelations until after I begin my fic! Jk. 3. I've decided to leave the doctor as John Obilade, I don't want to insult my professor too much. _

_Well, readers, tell me what you think. I'm open to constructive criticism, but I enjoy praise much more! _


	9. Chapter 9: The Attack

**_So, just thought I'd g_ive _a bit of input first_. **_**Hatters gonna hate (I know I'm a corn dog). **_

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><p>Chapter 9: The Attack<p>

The paint-peeled structure stood tall, its tin roof emitting visible waves of blistering heat as the sweltering sun beamed down upon it. The two story building, maintaining the façade of an office, cast a large, menacing shadow at it's base, producing an air of malice.

There was more than just an office and small living quarters within the paint-peeled structure…In the room of the camp's trusted doctor sat a bookcase. But this was no ordinary bookcase; because when a few certain novels were organized in just the right order, a mechanism would activate and the bookshelf will slide away to reveal a stone stairwell. This stairwell led to a lab in the hidden basement of the structure. Which is where Obilade was busy at work on _his _new specimen when he received a phone call.

The call was made by some woman that worked at the organization he was currently involved with. The Organization had promised him a high position within the company and _a lot_ of cash if he could manage to salvage some samples and successfully produce a new virus strain he and his former (dead) partner had been working on slightly after the attack on Kijuju.

In fact, that was the only reason he joined Terra Save for their futile "cause;" in hopes that he could obtain valuable samples (and not to mention have plenty of test subjects for his virus).

Stooping over a microscope, Obilade recalled what the haughty American bitch had told him only a few moments ago. She disclosed information on the Caucasian patient and how vital it was to keep him safe. The doctor supposed he could do this (but for a price, of course) since John Doe _was_ the precise reason he recently acquired the key sample that would make him a _very_ rich man. Apparently Mr. Doe was once an important asset at the Organization (some top scientists or something), and his safety was top priority.

_But he won't be much use to them in his current condition, _Obilade smiled to himself. It didn't matter, just as long as he kept the patient safe everything would be fine.

The woman also instructed him to get rid of Claire Redfield before she got any more clever ideas. Claire had contacted her brother and his girlfriend, who were both members of the BSAA. Apparently she knew about the patient, and was going to ruin everything. That is, before the Organization and an accident took care of her dear brother and his girlfriend.

After being told of the situation, Obilade demanded to speak to the President, which was the alias Obilade's new boss went by since no further information was given out about him. Once Obilade made a comment about, "...not taking orders from a woman," the arrogant bitch quickly informed the doctor that he, "had no choice," and all of his, "expected pay check," would be put towards, "a better cause."

Obilade snorted arrogantly; as if any _woman _could get the better of him.

He turned and faced towards the far east wall of the lab, his hands clasped behind his back as he stared up proudly at the female test subject in the incubation chamber. Yes, perhaps the lovely Claire would experience this same fate. Although the doctor would hate to see her go because he had developed such a profuse physical attractiveness to her; he couldn't allow her to destroy his goals.

"Such a shame…" he whispered. Perhaps he could manage a way to delay her demise… at least until he could have his way with her—

"Doctor," Obilade jerked at the sound of nurse Rudo's voice emitting from the walkie-talkie.

"Yes, what is it? I'm busy."

" I'm sorry Doctor, but we need you. John Doe is experiencing another epileptic episode, his heart rate is through the roof!"

"I'm on my way." Obilade quickly stored away his precious virus in the freezer and hurried up the stone stairway. _Damn! _The doctor cursed inwardly. _Keeping him safe won't be a problem, but keeping him a live might be…_

************Claire

"Claire, this way!" Leon yelled after her as they fled from a horde of zombies through a blood splattered door.

Claire slammed the door shut behind her and leaned against the wall gasping for air.

"What the hell are they?" she gasped.

"Beats me, we just gotta find a way out of here. Let's go," Leon motioned with his head.

They proceeded down the alleyway cautiously. Rounding the corner, a wretched stench engulfed the air around them, and Claire was scared out of her wits when a couple of walkers began beating on the fence to her right. Claire screamed and ran up beside the rookie cop.

"They got the hots for you, huh?" Leon smirked, glancing at her out the corner of his eye.

"Sh-shut up," she scowled at him.

They continued down the alleyway and came to a white van lodged in the exit. Turning to check the door to the building next to the van, all of a sudden they heard a deep growling sound, and before Claire knew it she was knocked to the ground. Struggling to push the foul smelling beast off of her, the canine was inches from ripping her face off when two shots were fired, bringing the dog down to die (again) in its own pool of blood.

Claire sat up and a gloved hand extended in front of her face. She took hold of the hand which hoisted her up, but then shoved her against the brick wall. Claire winched in pain and looked upon the face of her attacker in horror.

A strong hand clasped around her neck and clinched tightly.

"Where's big brother Chris, dear heart?" His eyes glowed brightly behind the dark shades. "There's no one here to save you. You're all alone…but isn't that how you wanted it, _miss Claire_?" he breathed cunningly. _Rap, rap, rap. _" To take care of things all by yourself?" _Rap, rap. "_Miss Claire, miss Claire?" he kept repeating as she was reaching asphyxiation…_RAP, RAP, RAP. MISS CLAIRE, ARE YOU IN THERE? _

Claire awoke, shooting up in bed, bringing her hand to her constricted neck. _It was just a dream._

"Claire, miss Claire?"

"Just a minute!" She yelled towards the door. Claire threw her sheets off and went to answer the door.

She opened the door to a man dressed in nurses scrubs. "Is there a problem?" Claire squinted from the bright sun outside.

"No problem. I am your neighbor, we met once already. Nurse Rudo tells me we are going to camp together today."

Then it clicked, "Oh no! I'm so sorry, I must have slept in. Can you just wait a few minutes? I'll be out in a jiff."

He nodded and smiled, Claire wasn't completely sure he fully understood her. "I'll be out in car."

After brushing her teeth, washing her face, and throwing on some clothes, Claire rushed out the door and got into the car with the nurse, who she later found out was named Noah (he had a Christian family).

They didn't talk much because his English wasn't so great, and it made the ride seem longer than it usually did when Claire rode with Abena. The lack of conversation allowed Claire to recall her phone call to Jill last night. She wondered if they had contacted the camp yet, or if they were there already. Claire guessed she'd know when they arrived.

Once inside the camp, Claire expressed her thanks to Noah and they parted ways. Looking around, Claire could tell nothing had changed, and Chris and the others hadn't made their way to the camp yet.

Not wanting to go into Wesker's tent first thing, the Redfield decided to find Obilade or Abena and ask if any phone call had been received from the anti-bioterrorism group; if anyone knew, it would be one of them. Surely Jill or one of the others would have contacted them by now. _Surely..._

Claire peered around the encampment with her hand shielding her eyes. She could see a few nurses and other personnel making their way to their next destinations, but there was no sign of either Abena or Obilade. That's when she was relieved by the sound of a familiar voice; Obilade had found _her_.

"Miss Redfield," Claire turned and faced the doctor.

"Obilade, I was just looking for you."

His dark eyebrow arched, "You were? Does it have anything to do with John Doe?"

She nodded. _So he _has_ heard._

"I've been informed of the situation, everything is under control. Your brother and his team should be here sometime tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" she queried. "Why wait until then?"

"I'm not sure," he mused, looking off in concentration. "They wanted to give us enough time to explain the situation to the camp. Perhaps given John Doe's condition they believed there was no need to rush things?" He arched an inquisitive eyebrow at her.

"Maybe..."_ This doesn't sound quite right, but I did ask Jill to provide some time..._"Who called?"

"A man by the name of Doug Wright. Why, do you not believe me?"

"No, no I believe you. I just had to make sure…" she trailed off. "Dr. Obilade, I'm sorry I didn't tell you myself. When I first found out, I wasn't entirely sure what to do."

Obilade took a step forward and put a comforting hand on Claire's shoulder. "That's okay, Miss Claire." His hand began working on her shoulder, causing Claire cringe inwardly. "No one could be sure what to do in such a situation."

After a few awkward moments of Obilade massaging Claire's shoulder and staring at her with this weird look in his eyes, he finally released his hold on her. _Who does he remind me of? _

"I know this may be too much to ask, Nurse Redfield. But John Doe needs looking after, he had another episode this morning. I know that he may be a threat, but currently he is my patient, and that's top priority on my list until the BSAA gets here."

"Okay…" she agreed reluctantly.

"I'm sorry to ask you, Miss Redfield, but you've encountered him before, if I'm not mistaken."

"I have but-"

"You of all people would know how to react incase something were to happen. Am I right?"

Claire sighed and nodded; she knew there was no way around it.

"Good, then go and sit with Mr. Doe, I shall arrive in about an hour to check on his vitals."

Obilade left and Claire made her way to tent number three once again. After Claire was inside, she gave out a huff and plopped down in a chair opposite the side of the room Wesker was on.

_Now what am I supposed to do, just sit here for the rest of the day and stare at him?_ Claire was annoyed, she'd hoped Wesker would have been gone by now and that all her worries would be flushed away.

What was worse was the heat within the tent; Claire was sure this was the hottest day yet, and it worked against her mood.

Claire stood and pulled her t-shirt over her head, revealing a black tank top. She tossed her shirt on the back of the chair and removed her ponytail so that she could redo it (since she hadn't had much time that morning). Working her hand's through her auburn hair to create the signature ponytail, Claire paused. Looking at the area where two patients once lay, she noticed that one of the two was missing. Claire's heart dropped, _they must've lost another one. _She looked over at the sleeping tyrant, hate filling her eyes, _and it's your fault! _

After securing her hair, Claire pulled her chair, being as loud as possible in the process, and sat down by Wesker. Annoyed by the fact that he wasn't stirred at all by the commotion, Claire cleared her throat loudly and crossed her legs with an impatient glare.

_People are dead because of you, _she scowled down at him, piercing him with her eyes. As far as she was concerned, Wesker didn't deserve to rest peacefully while others suffered as a result of his greed. She was determined to make his remaining time there as uncomfortable as possible.

Yet, Wesker still did not wake. She cleared her throat once again and watched him as he breathed steadily through the returned respirator. This time there was movement. Wesker's brows creased slightly, but that was it.

Claire growled in frustration. Then her eyes found the stainless steel water bottle sitting on Wesker's bedside table with the words _**Terra Save **_engraved on it in blue lettering.

Claire leaned over, placing her elbow on the table, and discreetly, as if someone were watching, knocked the water bottle off onto the floor. An onlooker would have seen this action as one of an impish child.

The loud ruckus caused by the impact rewarded Claire with the result she had been aiming for.

Wesker's eyes slid open, and once he found Claire, he glared at her seemingly innocent, smiling continence.

"I'm sorry, did I wake you?" She bent down to pick up the fallen bottle.

"Good morning, Nurse Redfield," he said through the mask. "Purposely disturbing your patient will get you nowhere."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," she said innocently. "It was an accident."

"Right," he scoffed. "The dragging of your chair and clearing your throat was an _accident_ as well, Nurse?"

Claire looked away, a little embarrassed at being caught.

"Is there a reason you're here, or did you just want to see me?"

"Please," she snorted. "I was assigned the position of _baby sitter _because of your recent epileptic episode. Trust me, if I had a choice, I wouldn't be stuck in here with you."

He eyed her curiously.

"What?" Claire demanded defensively.

"Where does your hatred for me come from, Nurse Redfield?"

"I…don't hate you."

"You're a poor liar," he closed his eyes. She had to admit, he was right. She'd always been a poor liar.

_Maybe I should have taken an acting class in college..._

Claire took advantage and used the time to stare at his disheveled appearance. His hair was no longer pulled away from his forehead, slicked back without a strand out of place. And if she wasn't mistaken, Claire thought he was beginning to grow some stubble on his chin and upper lip. He was no longer clad in all black, _how did he manage that in this heat? _Instead, he wore a simple, light blue hospital gown and a similarly colored sheet. His arms lay limply at his sides; an IV attached in the crease of his right arm, and another secured in a vein in his left hand. Wesker was nothing like his usual put-together self (at least, according to Claire's one encounter with him, and the few pictures she'd seen), and he definitely didn't appear to be a threat of any kind.

_Yeah, currently…_

"It's impolite to stare." Wesker's eyes opened to meet Claire's but hers automatically shot down at her feet. "Tell me, Claire, is it?"

She shuddered at hearing her name spoken by the tyrant.

"Where are we located?"

Claire's eyes narrowed, "Why?"

"Not knowing anything about myself, I'd at least like to gather my bearings."

"At a Terra Save encampment," she couldn't see how telling him that much could hurt anything.

"I know." Wesker mused. "I want to know the state. The city. Doubtfully I'll recognize the name anyway," he stared off thoughtfully.

"Tanzania," Claire stood and crossed her arms, making her way towards the water dispenser. _That's as far as you go on giving out information_, said Sensible Claire.

Wesker was silent for a while and then said, "I don't know it. Where was I found?"

Claire's eyes narrowed once again, she paused momentarily and filled her Styrofoam cup with water. Tilting the cup from side to side before taking a drink she said, "I don't know," she lied, but Wesker seemed to not see through it this time. Claire glanced once again at the empty bed. "Do you know what happened to the other patient that was in here?"

"He woke up."

Claire waited for him to go on. _You see, Claire. You got all worked up over nothing_. Except it wasn't over nothing, _I had every right to get worked up. Even if this one didn't die, it doesn't make up for the fact that hundreds of others have. _

"I believe they brought him to another area for treatment." Wesker closed his eyes once again. "You're not a real nurse."

Claire was taken aback and her cheeks began to burn. "Of course I am. Why would you say that, Mr. Doe?" She spat the name.

"You're not wearing scrubs, or a nametag. Furthermore, you just don't seem like the nurse type, Claire," he purred hers in return.

Claire shivered. "Whatever." _you observant bastard._ "I'll be back in a moment, just go back to sleep and try not to have a seizure while I'm gone," and with that, Claire stormed out of the tent.

By the end of it, Claire was really regretting waking him up in the first place. To her distaste, Claire realized she had been carrying on a conversation with THE Albert Wesker, and it was somewhat civil for Christ's sake! Okay, maybe he wasn't THE Albert Wesker because of his current state of mind, but that wasn't really a valid excuse. He certainly still carried the attitude and cunningness of his previous self.

Claire made her way across the dirt road and stomped into the storage building in search for some paper, a pencil, and a clip board for support. She opened a drawer in one of the desks and was relieved to find a stack of paper. After taking a few sheets and gathering her other supplies, the Redfield began to make her way back to the tent.

_If Obilade expects me to stay in here all day I at least have to have something to do. He can't expect me to keep carrying on civil conversations with _that _son of a bitch._

Slightly cooled down from her recent tantrum, Claire exited the building and closed the door behind her softly.

"Claire, good morning!"

She turned and saw David, the guy in the distinguishing specks she'd met yesterday. "David, good morning to you too," said Claire cheerfully.

David made his way up the steps, "How are you?"

"I'm, good." She had to seriously consider this.

"Just good, huh? How's Mr. Anonymous? I heard he had an episode this morning."

"He's fine," she said too quickly and a bit rudely.

"Ah, not getting along too well, eh?"

_What the hell, is he Canadian?_ "You could say that."

"You can tough it out, Claire." David gave her back a couple of pats (thank God he didn't have that creepiness about him like Obilade). "From what I hear he'll be gone come tomorrow."

"You've heard?" Claire was a bit surprised. "How many people know?"

"Not many…Hey listen, if you're up for it, how about me and you have a bite to eat on your lunch break?"

"Oh, um, sure." Claire said happily. "I just, don't know when my lunch break is," she confessed.

"The people that run this place," he chuckled while shaking his head. "It's settled then, your lunch break is on my lunch break. Which is," he glanced down at his silver watch, " about twenty minutes from now. I just have to fill out some forms, and if you could help me deliver a few prescriptions, we could be on our way."

"I'd be happy to help." _Why is his lunch break so early! _Claire really didn't like early lunch or brunch, or whatever one wants to call it. A full stomach in the morning was very unappealing, but she'd agreed nonetheless.

After David was finished filling out the forms, he gathered the medications from storage and he and Claire left the building to deliver the drugs. But the Redfield soon found herself being pulled towards tent three. _I have to check…make sure he's not up to something. Obilade told me to keep an eye on him anyway.  
><em>

"David, I'll be right back, I have to go get my shirt." It was true.

Claire made her way to tent three and paced slowly towards Wesker's bed to retrieve her shirt draped over the back of the chair. He appeared to be sleeping.

"Are you awake?" she whispered. He made no indication. "Do you need anything?" Still, no answer._ Why do I care? _"Right," she said aloud. _No need to ask any further questions_. Claire grabbed her shirt and pulled it over her head, finally leaving to accompany David.

Later, after Claire and David had delivered the medications, they made their way towards the tent they used as the cafeteria (for the patients and residents). David apologized for not going anywhere more "fancy" but Claire understood that a thirty minute lunch break really left them with few options. Going to town and back would take up their entire break, plus some.

Claire had never been in the cafeteria before, and surprisingly they had it set up in such a way that it was actually appealing. They each had a sandwich and soup (Claire jambalaya and David vegetable). David, Claire found, was a really easy person to get along with, and she couldn't help but realize how comfortable he made her feel. Maybe it was the familiarity that they were from the same place, and enjoyed the same things; American things of course, like motorcycles and movies.

Claire discovered that David owned a chopper himself, this only made her admire him even more (David even promised to take her for a ride if they ever met up again in the states). While David, on the other hand, learned that Claire wasn't much of a chef.

Their lunch break was over sooner than expected and David walked with Claire all the way back to tent three, jabbering the whole time; but Claire didn't mind, she enjoyed the company.

David eventually left, saying he had to get back to work and Claire entered tent three on lighter feet than before.

When she got inside she saw Obilade standing over Wesker, checking his vitals. He turned towards her, expectant of an explanation for her absence.

"Dr. Obilade," she smiled, "I was out for lunch. I was only gone for about thirty min—"

"I see you've taken a liking to Nurse Ryan." He began to pace towards her with his hands behind his back.

"We're just friends," she stated factually.

Obilade advanced towards her with that weird look in his eye, causing Claire to take an involuntary step backwards. But Obilade continued to come closer. "I wonder if you could take the same interest in me," he breathed. He was so close that Claire could smell the foulness of onions and garlic as he did so.

"I would think that by now you and I are on as good of terms as David and I." Claire's heart rate began to quicken, _I swear if he tries anything I'll break his jaw._

"I've seen the way you look at me, you must notice the way I look at you, too."

This caught her completely off guard, what was he insinuating? "What? I-" and his sausage like finger was pressing against her lips once again.

He moved closer, towering over her. His menacing shadow engulfing her bewildered face.

"Shhh," he breathed in her ear, his greasy cheek brushing up against hers. "We could go back to my residence or continue here, which would you prefer?"

Claire jerked her head away from his finger. "I'm warning you, Doctor," she gave him a heeding look, "don't touch me again." That's when she realized who he reminded her of…_That rapist Chief Irons! _Her brain screamed.

Caught off guard, she was met with the sickening impact of Obilade's lips slamming against hers, followed by his hands were feeling frantically all over her body. Claire shoved him off of her, stunned at his actions.

"Don't be such a tease, you American whore!" he snarled, advancing on her once again. This time Claire was ready and dodged him, knocking him to the ground as he tripped over his own feet.

He got to his hands and knees with a hostile growl, jumping up to pounce again at his prey...Then the machines from behind Claire began to sound loudly, and as Wesker's heart rate began to quicken, Obilade dropped his predatory stance, and walked around Claire (who wasn't about to let her guard down again) to Wesker's bedside.

Claire stared wide eyed after the doctor who began busying himself with stabilizing the thrashing Wesker.

Obilade shot his anger contorted face towards Claire. "Go get more help!" He shouted, while trying to hold Wesker's thrashing arms still so that the IV's wouldn't be ripped out, "and you have the rest of the day off!"

She stared at him in disbelief, her mouth gaping open.

"Go!" he spat, flinging his arm at her "Get out of here!"

Claire turned, and ran out of the tent. Running blindly down the dirt road, past tents, Claire eventually ran into someone, knocking him or her to the ground.

"Claire!" Abena looked socked into Claire's cerulean blue eyes. "What's the matter?"

"Obi-Obilade!" She managed.

"What about the doctor, Claire?" She asked as they both got to their feet.

"He," Claire glanced around the camp, seeing that there were many onlookers staring with concerned experessions. "He, uh, needs help in tent three."

"Of course!" said Abena, but before she could head for the tent with the other rushing nurses, Claire grabbed hold of her arm.

"Abena, wait."

"Yes, what is it, Claire?"

"He-he attacked me."

"Who attacked you?" asked Abena, as she pulled Claire closer, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

"Obilade."

Abena gasped. "Oh no, Claire."

"It's okay," she lied, "Could you just bring me home after you help with Wes-I mean John Doe? He told me to leave." She wasn't sure if Abena knew about Wesker yet, there was no use in blurting out something stupid.

"Of course," she placed comforting arms around Claire and gave her a tight hug. "I'll be back in no time, you can wait out in my truck if you like."

"Yeah."

Abena left, hurrying off to Wesker's tent. While Claire just stood there for a moment before finding Abena's mongrel truck and sliding in the passenger seat.

Abena arrived sooner than Claire expected, and hopped in the drivers side. Soon they were on their way to Claire's tiny abode.

Most of the way Abena remained silent, merely thinking of what to say to her distraught friend. "Claire, are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Abena, really. I just wasn't expecting it."

"If you don't mind me asking, what did he do to you?"

That was a good question, or better yet, what could he have done to her if not for her combat experience and, well, Wesker's episode?

"He just got too close for comfort and said some inappropriate things."

"Claire, I am so sorry," and it was true. If Abena would have known Obilade had those kind of intentions towards Claire, she would have warned her. Abena had witnessed similar behavior (just not to such an extent) from Obilade in the past. In fact, it was towards one of the house keeping women Abena was friends with. Strangely though, she got sick and had to leave, so he discontinued his pursuit.

"It's okay, I'm leaving tomorrow once my brother and his team gets here to take John Doe into custody."

"What are you talking about?"

Claire gazed at her friend, "You haven't heard?"

Abena shook her head.

"He didn't tell you." Claire said more to herself. "I though you were his go-to person, surely he'd tell you before he would Nurse Ryan."

Abena pursed her lips, "No, I have been busy today though. It's not a surprise he would inform David of whatever you're talking about. They seem to be fairly close."

"Oh," Claire contemplated. "I guess I can tell you since you'll learn it eventually some time today. John Doe is…Well he's a threat. I realized this and contacted my friend who is a member of the BSAA. She and my brother will be here sometime tomorrow to take him into custody and I've decided to leave with them."

"I see…Claire, maybe you should think this through. You're a great asset here."

"I have," she said staring out the window. "I'm sorry Abena, but I have to report Obilade. He attacked me and that's inexcusable."

Abena let out a sigh. "You're right. We'll just have to find a replacement doctor."

They pulled into Claire's driveway, and Claire hopped out of the truck. "I'll be back by later to check in on you. Okay, Claire?" She called from the drivers side window.

Claire gave her a smile and nodded, waving bye as Abena drove off; her truck sputtering all the way.

The Redfield retreated into her house, aimlessly moving about with no plan. She took a seat on the sofa in her tiny living room contemplating on what to do next.

Claire had faced zombies and countless other monsters, but she was almost positive what just happened between her and Obilade ranked in her highest for scariest moments; or maybe it just felt that way because it just happened. Even so, it was a terrifying adrenaline rush she didn't care to experience ever again.

The Redfield let out a sight. As much as she hated to deprive the camp of their doctor, there was no way he was going unreported. What if he tried to attack another woman? _That_ blood would be on Claire's hands.

Claire ran a hand through her bangs, she needed to do something to clear her mind and stop her from thinking about things she'd rather not think about. Making up her mind to go for a run, Claire went to her room, changed into appropriate attire, and made her way to the dirt road.

She began at a steady pace and worked up her speed as she advanced down the road. Not knowing her destination, her body simply pulled her forward. Once she passed her furthest neighbors house, she kept going. As the sun beat down on Claire with it's hot rays, she wiped the sweat from her brow, continuing to move forward with each stride. The sweat continue to form all over her body, and droplets of the secreting fluid fell to the ground forming tiny specks of mud.

Rounding a curve in the road, Claire stepped onto a rocky area and all of a sudden felt her foot slip out from under her. Trying to catch herself, Claire placed her hands behind her to break the fall and felt a sharp pain shoot through her wrist. She crumpled over in pain, grasping her wrist, the dirt sticking to her sweaty face. Fighting back the tears to get a better look at her wrist, Claire looked down to find her wrist flopped over in an abnormal position and the bone poking under her skin.

She let out a cry of frustration and pain. "Fuck," she breathed. "Oh-my-god, oh-my-god, oh-my-god!" she cried, as she rolled over on her other side. Claire worked to gather some amount of endurance before she tried to get up. She lay there for a few more minutes, eyes clinched, breathing in and out through her teeth, when she heard a deep rumbling sound overpower her breaths. _Is that me? _She halted her breathes and opened her clinched eyes. Her breathing stopped, but the deep guttural sound didn't.

Then there was laughter.

Claire shot straight up and hastily got to her feet. Turning in circles, she frantically tried to find the source of the laughter that seemed to be surrounding her from all sides. Something rustled in the tall brush and Claire soon found herself lying on the ground again, clinching her arm, just above her broken wrist. She'd been knocked down by something big, but what the hell was it?

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><p><em><strong>A chapter at last, a chapter at last, thank God Almighty a chapter at last!<strong>_

_**So I know I've been slacking, but here is another chapter, enjoy it my preciouses! Oh yeah, sorry about Claire's little outburst there, but we're all adults and this is properly rated. Oh, and I realize that I went with the uncannoned (is that a real word because fanfic says it's not?)version of RE in Claire's dream, I just thought that scene was a bit funny in Dark Side Chronicles and decided to use it. But that's okay, because my story will probably be completely uncannon once the sixth game comes out! Not complaining though. ^.^**_

_**Well, honestly, I'm on spring break. That's probably the only reason I was finally able to get this chapter to you guys. Sadly, it will probably be a while before I update again, but trust me, I try to do it at least once a month. **_

_**I hope you stick around for the next chapter, because things are about to start getting crazy (finally)!**_

_**Please, review and tell me what you think. I feel I'm in the need for suggestions after this chapter.  
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	10. Chapter 10: So Much for Peace and Quiet

**03/19/12 Like I said before in previous chapter's, I've had to go through and change some things that could seriously screw up my plot because I wrote them before I finished Revelations. Anyway, sorry for the inconvenience!  
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><p><strong>Chapter 10:<strong> **So much for Peach and Quiet**

Atu and his aged mother, Atuanya sat in their peacefully quite home that afternoon enjoying a midday meal. Atu stared over at his mother's wrinkled leather skin, her graying hair, and her eyes, once brown, now a milky blue color.

It had only been mere weeks since the attack on Kijuju, and despite his mother's ailing condition, Atu somehow managed to keep she and himself safe through it all.

Atu began speaking to his mother about a large herd Elephants he saw pass over the plain that morning when they heard a woman scream off in the distance.

"What was that?" asked Atu, who jumped up and rushed to the window to peer behind the curtains.

"What was what?" asked his mother.

"That scream, did you not heart it?"

"No. Well, son. What do you see?" She demanded.

Atu gazed out the window, searching for the source of the scream, when he saw movement. He squinted to get a better look and gasped.

"What, what is it?" His mother demanded once again.

"It looks like a girl trying to fight off some kind of beasts with a stick! Wait a second…" Atu peered harder at the objects circling the girl. _They can't be. They're too big to be…_ "Hyenas! I whole cackle of them! Wait here mother," Atu said as he grabbed his rifle and ran out the door.

"Atu! Get back here, boy!" his mother called after him. "We don't stick our noses in other peoples business!" but it was too late. Atu was already making his way across the field. _So much for peach and quiet_, thought Atuanya as she returned to her meal.

***************Claire

Securing her wrist against her stomach, Claire rolled over on her back, desperate to find what had knocked her to the ground. Still, there was no sign of her attacker, that is, not until it was right on top of her…

The taunting laughter continued, something rustled in the tall elephant grass and all of a sudden, Claire was fighting with all her might to hold off the beast that was trying to tear out her throat. It's foul breath flooded Claire's nostrils as it came inches away from her face, its teeth smacking together along the way in hopes to get a taste of her flesh.

Summoning her strength, Claire jabbed a knee as hard as she could into the creatures gut. It let out a yelp of pain and leapt off of her. Claire scurried away from the creature (which she by now discovered was some kind of big, _ugly_ dog) on her bottom. Looking around for something to protect herself with, she spotted a large rock. Claire picked it up, took aim and flung it at the advancing canine.

It hit the dog square between the eyes. The creature let out another yelp and Claire saw a piece of flesh fall from it's face, revealing some black ooze… then, a disgusting sound like flesh being torn apart filled Claire's ears and the dog's head split in two; revealing multiple black tentacles and newly formed teeth. Claire looked for some other object to throw or hit the beast with and found a discarded wood plank with rusted, bent nails imbedded in it. She picked it up, got to her feet and stood her ground.

But once Claire thought she was ready for the attack and had a pretty good chance of making it out of this alive, two more of the big hyenas (that's what they were, just a little oversized) emerged from the tall brush. Claire's heart was pounding, her adrenaline was pumping, and she couldn't even feel the pain in her broken wrist anymore.

_This is it. There's no way I can make it out of this one—NO! I can do this…maybe. _She'd made it this far, she wasn't about to give up now.

Claire planted her feet firmly on the ground, anticipating the hyenas next attack. They continued to circle around her, cackling and snapping their jaws. Claire saw tentacle-head hunch over and a deep growl emitted from it's throat. She was sure it was ready to attack; and she was right. It lunged forward and Claire got ready to swing the plank. Just as she was about to take a swing, a loud shot echoed across the plain, and the overgrown hyena fell dead at her feet.

Claire and the remaining two hyena's heads turned simultaneously in the direction of the shot that was fired. A young man stood in the field about twenty yards away with a rifle in hand. Claire Redfield was so happy to see this complete stranger that just saved her life, she was pretty sure she could kiss him.

One of the other hyenas darted towards the young man, but before the other could follow suit, Claire took the plank and whacked it upside the head. The board got lodged in it's thick skull and black tentacles shot out of this ones head too, twisting and thrashing. Claire worked frantically to pull the board free. Once she did, there was another shot fired in the distance and Claire continued to lay the plank against the beasts skull until she was satisfied it was dead.

She threw the plank to the side and bent over panting, still holding her damaged wrist against her stomach.

The young man came running up beside Claire with wide eyes. "Are you okay?" he looked her up and down.

She nodded her head while catching her breath. "I'm fine. Thank you, you saved my life," she looked up at him earnestly.

His eyes met hers and he gave an easy smile before wondering down to her wrist. "Oh my, what happened to your arm? Did they—"

"No, I fell. Surprisingly those hyenas left me unscathed. If it hadn't been for you, there's no telling what would have happened."

"Yes," he mused, "they must have been following you for some time. Hyenas usually wont attack unless they see a weakness in their prey. After you fell, I'm sure that's when they saw the opportunity. They usually don't attack humans either…but of course, these were no ordinary hyena."

"So it wasn't my imagination, they were a little bigger than regular hyena?"

"Of course they are," he gave her an amused look.

"What? I've never seen one in person," she said defensively, wincing as the pain began to return to her broken wrist.

The boy walked over to the hyena Claire had put down and proceeded to jab it with his boot.

"Don't," Claire cautioned. "They're infected."

"I know," he said. "I'll have to burn the carcasses later...but for now you must come with me to my home to get cleaned up. My house is just over there."

He looked at Claire and she nodded, then they began to make their way to his house.

"I'm Atu," he said, as they walked, "you must be our American neighbor. I would have come over and introduced myself sooner but my mother is…she doesn't take kindly to strangers," Atu looked at her apologetically.

_He must be the one that found Wesker. That means he has a vehicle. _"That's fine. I'm Claire."

"Nice to meet you, Claire."

"Same here. Listen, Atu? Do you think you could just bring me to the Terra Save encampment? It's just up the road a little way."

He inhaled through his teeth. "Claire, I'm sorry, but my truck hasn't been running. She doesn't work well, and sometimes not at all, in this heat."

"Oh…" _can things get any worse?_

"But we could certainly try!"

"Thank you."

They arrived at Atu's house and he guided the way as Claire followed him inside. There was an old woman sitting at a dinner table when they walked in, who scared Claire out of her skin after shouting something in Swahili. Atu went to the old woman's side and aided her out of the room and into another. He returned in mere seconds with a wash rag and bowl in hand.

"You may sit at the table," he motioned for Claire to sit.

After she took a seat, he handed her the wash cloth and placed the bowl of warm water on the table. "Clean yourself up. Here's a glass of water, I'll be outside trying the truck." He placed the glass in front of Claire and left to do just that.

Claire began wiping off her face and arms with the cloth. She took this time to examine the damage done to her wrist. Placing it gently on the table, Claire winced more at the sight (which made the pain worse) than from the pain.

Her wrist was bent forward in an awkward position, and it had already begun to swell up, bruising in purples and blues. She'd never broken a bone, and had always wondered what it would feel like. Now she just wished the pain would go away.

Atu returned after about twenty minutes, being the bearer of bad news. "She wont start."

Claire sighed, "I don't suppose you have a phone do you? I left mine back at home."

"I do, actually." He pulled out a tiny black cell phone. "I don't guarantee you will find a signal."

"Thanks," she said, as she took the phone from him. "You wouldn't happen to have the camps number?"

"It's listed in the address book."

Claire scrolled through the address book and found the number, _now I just need to find a signal_, she thought as she got up to find a spot, her arm stinging in the process.

After wondering around outside for a long time with no luck, Claire returned back inside and sat down gently at the table so that she didn't disturb her wrist.

"I give up. It's too hot, and my arm is killing me. Abena should be here later anyway. Do you happen to have anything I could use as a cold compress at least?"

Atu went to the freezer and pulled out an icepack for cooling food and handed it to Claire. "I could put it back in place for you," he suggested.

"Thanks, but no thanks." Claire laughed.

"I've done it before, my mother has fallen more than once. Here," he said, sitting down opposite her and extending his hand towards her.

She eyed him cautiously.

"I just want to look at it," he said honestly.

Claire complied and extended her pale wrist towards his dark hand.

His brow knitted together while examining it. "We need to put it back in place and get it in a sling, it's not good to let it swell in this position." Claire began to protest be he stopped her. "Trust me, I know how to do it. This way you don't have to wait for hours with it like that before you get any kind of treatment. They'll do the same thing at the camp that I plan to do."

"You can't be serious," Claire searched his face for answers; he was. "Like I said, I'll just wait for Abena to get here and they'll take care of it at the camp."

"Suit yourself," he looked at her seriously, "but after it sits like that for a few hours, it will be much harder to put back into place later on. Not to mention much more painful." With that, he made to get up.

"Wait…Fine, I'll let you do it," she said, with a whimper. She knew that they would probably have some kind of sedative or pain killer at the camp to give her before they put her arm back in place, but Claire wasn't sure she could stand to wait any longer with her wrist in that condition. She needed a sling to support it, and what good was a sling if her arm was stuck in such an awkward position? She decided to get it over with. Besides, how bad could it be? Surely no worse than popping a dislocated shoulder back in place (which she had experienced when she was a little girl).

Atu stood and removed his belt, handing it to the sickly looking woman. "Here. You'll want to bite on this."

Claire bravely took the belt and placed it in her mouth.

Atu took Claire's arm gently in his hands and began counting off. When he got to three, Claire clamped her teeth down on the belt and let out a muffled moan of pain when he snapped her arm back in place. Heat began to rush all over Claire's body and she started to feel dizzy. _Don't faint, Claire! _But it was too late, her vision began to blur and she blacked out.

*******************Chris

_**Two days since Claire's blackout…**_

_Beep, beep, beep, beep…_That was the only audible sound Chris Redfield could here aside from the quite whispers of a heated conversation somewhere close by.

Opening his eyes for the first time in days, Chris squeezed them shut once again from the unbearable light that bounced on his pupils. Slowly peeking with one eye, his eyes finally adjusted enough for him to open them fully. Breathing in deep and exhaling slowly, Chris felt like he was taking the breath of life itself. _Where am I…?_

Glancing down at his body (because it was difficult to move his head), Chris soon learned the answer to his question. "The hospital," he spoke aloud.

"Hold on a second, Mera. Did he just say something?" Chris heard footsteps come towards his bed and soon looked upon the familiar face of his advisor, Clive R. O'Brian. "Well I'll be damned, Chris. You're finally awake," O'Brian smiled down at him.

"Chris!" said Mera, "how are you feeling?"

"I've been better," he managed, "O'Brian, Mera, what are you guys doing here? Where's Jill?"

O'Brian and Mera exchanged similar looks.

"Guys. Where's Jill?" he asked once more.

"Chris," sighed O'Brian, "I've got some bad news." Chris looked at him to go on. "Well, you see…Jill's missing—"

"What?" Chris exclaimed, trying to jump out of bed but regretting it the moment he tried.

"Now, now, Chris. Settle—"

"What do you mean "she's missing?"" he demanded, looking from O'Brian to Mera. "She can't be…not after I just got her back."

"Mera, could you give us a moment?" she nodded and left the room. O'Brain took a seat by Chris's bed. "We don't know much of anything. The story we have is from a cop that was injected with a tranquilizer. He said he pulled Jill over for speeding and the next thing he knew, he was laying on the asphalt beside her car. Says he doesn't remember anything else."

"Speeding, why would Jill be…Oh, God." Chris brought his arm free from a cast up to his face and shook his head in dismay. "It's my fault. She must have been the one that called me, and when I didn't answer, she must have felt something was wrong."

"Chris, don't beat yourself up, we have no way of knowing that."

"Don't bullshit with me, O'Brian. Where did they find her car, down the road from my wreck?" he found the answer on O'Brian's face. "See, she was looking for me. When can I get out of here? I have to find Jill," he said, as he struggled to sit up.

"Settle down, Chris. You're in no condition to be going out on a wild goose chase. Besides, I doubt you'll even be able to walk for a while," he glanced down at the cast on Chris's right leg.

"Damn," Chris spat, slamming his good fist on his good leg. "Does Claire know about any of this?"

"A doctor at the camp conveyed the message to her for us."

Chris just stared off deep in though. The Redfield was angry at himself, angry for not being able to do anything to get Jill back, and angry four causing this whole mess in the first place. It had only been a little over a month and he couldn't even manage to keep Jill safe in that short amount of time. He felt utterly useless; like a failure.

And even worse, he couldn't imagine what this news had done to his baby sister. No doubt she was upset over the whole ordeal, he wouldn't be surprised if she decided to come home early because of him. He felt like scum; Claire would hate him for a long time because of this. Just when she had decided to go out in the world and do something on her own, his lousy mistake cost her that freedom.

"Chris," said O'Brian, breaking the brooding man from his trance, "at least we know who doesn't have her. That, if anything, could put your mind at ease."

"At least we have that. I'll find Jill, O'Brian." He looked his advisor dead in the eye. "That's a promise."

******************Claire

"_Claire, _Claire!" She was shook awake.

"Atu," she peered up at him through hazy eyes.

"Time to get up, Claire. I got my truck running, we can go to the camp now."

Claire sat up, she had somehow been moved to a couch in her sleep.

_Sleep? Please, Claire. You passed out. Again._ Claire huffed; how many times was she going to black out in her stay there? She was pretty sure she was supposed to be the one providing aid, not the one needing it.

Remembering her previous situation before blacking out, Claire looked down and examined her wrist. To her surprise, it had been straightened and bound tightly in a makeshift cast. Even more impressing, it was actually set in a real sling.

"Come on," said Atu, helping her to her feet, "we should get going."

"Thank you for my arm," said Claire, as they made their way outside.

"It was my pleasure, Claire."

Outside it was pitch black, aside from the burning heap a few yards away from the tiny house. Claire watched as the fire disintegrated the remains of the three overgrown hyena.

It was obvious that the virus had somehow found its way into the hyenas den and bonded with them. Claire wasn't sure how the virus had spread, but she had a good idea. Worst case scenario, it was _her_ fault and the virus came from _her_ bag. Even though she had burned all traces of the disgusting, black virus, she knew that there was a possibility that some of it escaped before hand. Claire just hoped these hyena were products of the virus missed by her brother and the other BSAA members. If not, then the shit would hit the fan worse than she ever could imagine when Chris got there.

Claire climbed into the truck next to Atu. He put his stick shift into gear, and they were making their way down the dirt road.

This was the darkest night Claire had seen since she'd been there. She gazed out the window up at the night sky. There were no stars nor moon in sight, only a thick layer of dark clouds hanging lazily overhead.

"There's a full moon tonight," said Atu, breaking the silence, "except we can't see it because of those rain clouds. Looks like there be a big storm on the way."

Just as he said it, the wind began to pick up and small droplets of rain splattered on the window shield; lightning struck the earth off in the distance.

By the time Claire and Atu came in vision of the camp, the storm had picked up and the rain was coming down so hard it was difficult to see. Atu pulled up before the gate, and Claire got ready to speak to the guard, but strangely, he wasn't at his post.

They sat there for a few minutes waiting for him to come out, thinking that maybe he had gone to the bathroom, but he never came. Running out of patience, Atu leaned out the window and hit the button, causing the gate to open. He eased his truck through the gate and they coasted down the muddy path.

_Something's not right here_, Claire thought as she swept vigilant eyes around the camp.

"So, where are we going?" asked the African man.

"I don't know—Wait a second, I think I see someone on the ground between those two tents."Claire leaned forward. "Stop here!" Claire shouted, and Atu slammed on his breaks. Claire jumped from the vehicle and ran towards the down man.

When Claire got to the man, she crouched down beside him and flipped him over with her free hand. "Sir, are you-Ugh!" Claire said in disgust and dropped the lifeless corpse. There was blood smeared all over his face, escaping from his eyes, nose and mouth. But that wasn't the thing that disturbed Claire the most. No, what disturbed her the most was the thick, short black hairs that seemed to cover his entire face, and upon further inspection, his entire body...

"What is it?" said Atu, as he came up beside Claire, who was rinsing her hand off in the rain.

"He's dead," stated Claire somberly. "Listen, Atu," Claire looked at the young man, who she realized had somehow produced a black handgun, "I don't know what's going on around here but," she glanced down at the gun, "you're definitely gonna need that."

_Could Wesker be behind this? _She thought, gazing around the camp for any sign of life. _There's only one way to find out._

"Come on, Atu. This way!" Claire rushed past Atu, splattering mud and made her way to tent number three.

Gun in hand, Atu raced after Claire and paused by the entrance of the big white tent where she stood. Claire motioned with her head and signaled for Atu to go first. Gaining up his courage, Atu rounded the corner and burst through the entrance…

"It's pitch black," whispered Claire from beside him, "must have had a power outage from the storm."

"Here, hold this," Atu shoved the gun in Claire's good hand. Soon the tent was illuminated with a dim light. Claire looked at Atu who now held a silver zippo lighter above his head.

"Could you bring that closer over here?" she headed towards Wesker's bed, but didn't have to go far to see he was no longer in it. "Shit," Claire hissed. "Where the hell is he?"

"Where's who?"

"The guy behind this. Come on, let's get out of here." It wasn't much brighter outside the tent than in. Claire walked to the center of the muddy road and spun around, the rain beating down hard on her. "Where is everybody?"

"I do not know," said Atu, as he dug around in his truck bed, eventually producing another gun; his rifle.

Claire turned towards the building that housed Obilade. She really didn't want to go in there, but if anything, maybe she could find a working phone or walkie.

"What I do know is that something—yah AHH!"

Claire spun on her heels and felt the hair on her neck raise by what she saw. The dead man she had checked on only moments ago was now on his feet, tearing into Atu's neck. "Atu!" Claire rose the pistol and fired two rounds at the beasts back. Pieces of flesh and dark hair flew from the man, and he turned with his shoulders hunched forward and began running savagely towards Claire. She took her aim and fired one more round, hitting the beasts shoulder, before turning on her heels, stuffing the gun in her sling, and dashing for the office building.

She could hear him panting heavily and splashing in the mud behind her. _Come on, just a little further…_and Claire reached the metal door just in time, disappearing behind it and locking it securely. She leaned against the door panting, while the beast beat against it angrily before giving up, forgetting Claire, and remembering the already dead Atu.

Claire removed the gun from her sling and pulled out it's clip, _only have six left…better make 'em count. _The Redfield straightened and looked around the room. There were lights high on the wall still lit in this building. _Must have a back up generator_, Claire thought as her ears perked up to the sound of someone's struggled breathing. Claire searched around the room and found the source; someone was lying behind the desk on the floor.

This time, Claire proceeded towards the person cautiously; she couldn't afford anymore surprises like the last one. Once Claire got closer, she realized it was a woman. In fact, it was…

"Abena!" Claire rushed to her friend and turned her over gently in her arm(s).

"Claire," Abena managed, followed by spitting up a large amount of blood.

"Abena," Claire said, her eyes beginning to tear up, "what happened here?"

"T-there was s-some kind of h-hairy monster. It attacked, s-soon everyone was dead."

"Is that what happened to you?" Claire asked, as tears fell on her friends face.

Abena coughed up more blood, "N-no. It was...Obilade. H-he—"

"Shhh," Claire shushed. "You don't have to tell me, just rest."

"No," Abena sputtered, her eyes growing wide. "Listen, t-there's a book case in here. I saw O-Obilade come out of it chasing after that, that _thing_! He saw me a-a-and s-shot me. I think the answer will b-be behind that bookcase."

"Don't worry, Abena. We're going to get you out of here, and I'll make Obilade pay for what he's done."

Abena let out a weak, gurgled laugh. "I'm already dead, silly girl." She reached up and cupped Claire's tear streaked face. "I'm glad to have met you, Claire Redfield…" Her hands slid softly away from Claire's face and fell to her stomach. Claire's dear friend ,Abena Rudo, was dead.

Claire let out a harsh gasp and then began to sob as she hugged Abena's limp body against her, not caring that it pained her broken wrist. Claire couldn't help but be reminded of the time back at the Antarctic lab where Steve died similarly in her arms. After she began to calm, Claire placed a hand over Abena's eyes and closed them. She then moved out from under her and placed her head softly on the ground.

"Don't worry, Abena. I'll make him pay." She promised her dead friend, before she got up in search for the bookcase Abena had told her about.

It didn't take long before Claire found what she was looking for because, when she found it, the bookcase was already open. Claire made her way down the narrow stone steps, and when she reached the bottom, found herself in an underground lab. The distraught woman took a moment to examine the lab, when her eyes came upon a notebook sitting on top of an oak desk. Claire picked up the note book which read _**Research**_. She turned it gingerly in her hand before opening it and flipping through the pages to discover it wasn't just research, but a journal. She stopped on the first entry and read.

_I first discovered this unique virus strain while working with my partner, Tommy, on a shrewdness of apes thought to be carrying the deadly Ebola virus. After hearing reports of individuals contracting the virus in a small village community in Tanzania, my partner and I set out to collect data on the apes thought to be passing on the virus to humans. Like most apes carrying this particular pathogen, they displayed little sign of infection at first, we surmised this was because of the 12-25 day period needed for the virus to incubate. _

Claire flipped to the next page.

_We were correct…After four days of analyzing the chimpanzees, we began to see the first signs of Ebola. _

_But our story doesn't start until later, when one particular female chimpanzee became very curious in my partner Tommy and I. We decided to give this chimp a name (it was more Tommy's idea than mine), we named her Curious Georgia, or CG for short. After four deaths among the shrewdness of apes, Tommy and I were both saddened when we discovered that CG had become infected. As her symptoms advanced and she became progressively worse, we could only prepare ourselves for the worst...But it was a miracle!—  
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"Have you found what you were looking for, Nurse Redfield?"

Claire turned to face none other than Obilade himself (who was looking rather rough). "It's you," Claire spat, "just another virus crazed, murdering bastard."

"Murdering?" Obilade gave a faux, inquisitive smile and brought a shiny, bloody hand to his chin. "Oh, you must be talking about Nurse Rudo. Such a sad, sad ting," he said sarcastically, "but you see, I couldn't let her live after what she saw. If it makes you feel any better, I injected her with something that will restore her with _life._"

"You son of a bitch," Claire growled.

"What's that? You want to volunteer to be my next test subject for my new PL2CG Virus?" He pulled a vile filled with a sickly yellow liquid from his lab coat pocket. "Though I hoped to enjoy some time with you before hand…It doesn't matter, with this virus, you will be completely under my control."

"I think I'll pass on that offer, Doctor." Claire pulled the gun from the sling once again and fired.

The bullet hit Obilade in the shoulder and he dropped the vile on the floor, where it bounced and rolled away.

Obilade roared with pain and gripped at his shoulder. Blind with rage, he picked up a dirty scalpel from the table next to him and rushed towards Claire. Without hesitation, Claire opened fire, first hitting him in the chest two times, and finally one bullet hit home and Obilade's brain scattered across the room. The menacing doctor fell to the floor dead. Claire couldn't believe she'd done it, but it wasn't much different from killing a zombie or B.O.W. Maybe it was because of who he was, and how much she resented him.

Claire grabbed the notebook from the desk and tucked it in the back of her shorts, then made her way to where the vial had rolled. She stepped over Obilade's body, while searching on the ground and finally found the virus. Bending down to pick it up, there was a click against Claire's head and she stiffened.

"Hand it over like a good girl, Claire."

Claire turned slightly to get a look at who ever was holding the gun to her head and was instantly shocked. "David?"

"The virus, Claire." He nudge the gun against her head. Claire handed him the virus. "That fool, Obilade. Did he really think the Organization would grant him the power he so desired?"

"The Organization?"

"Mm, I'm sure you've heard of it. Ada Wong is one of its top agents."

"You tricked me," she spat.

"Oh, so sorry, Claire, but you never asked. Don't get me wrong, you're a nice girl. But business is business, eh?"

_There he goes again. _"Whoever this Organization is, I'm sure you're just as much a puppet to them as Obilade was."

"I don't think so, I've been with them for a long time. Now, be a good girl and retrieve the metal case from the freezer for me." He pressed the gun into Claire's back and jerked her up by her broken arm, causing her to moan in pain. "Sorry, I'll be gentler next time," he whispered into her ear and guided her towards the freezer.

Claire opened the freezer as he instructed and retrieved the metal case. She offered it to David and he jerked it away from her.

"Thank you for your cooperation," he said as he began to back away towards the exit, "see ya around, Claire." Before fleeing up the steps, David produced a flash grenade and tossed it at Claire's feet. Claire quickly guarded her eyes, but wasn't able to completely block out the blinding light in time. After regaining her vision, Claire raced up the stairs after David, busting through the door to see him pulling off in Abena's old pickup.

"David!" She screamed running out into the rain once again and after the truck, but he was already at the gate and busting through it to his escape.

Claire was so angry she could scream, and she as about to,that is, until something else let out at loud screech before she got the chance. She jerked her head in the direction of the animalistic screech and saw four of those hairy monsters raging towards her. Summoning up her speed, Claire ran for Atu's abandoned truck and jumped in the drivers side. She searched the ignition and thanked God that the keys were still intact. She twisted the key and the truck groaned in disapproval. Claire glanced out the front window and saw the creatures gaining on her.

"Come on baby," she pleaded with the truck, as she continued to twist the key. That's when her driver side door was flung open.

"Move," demanded a cool, calm voice. The man shoved Claire over in the passenger side and got in.

"You," Claire said, as she drew her gun on a soaking wet Albert Wesker.

He looked her up and down and gave her a bored sneer, "I would put that away, before you break your other arm." and in a flash, the gun was out of Claire's possession and in his. "It's a stick shift, dear heart. Not an automatic." Claire Redfield's mouth gaped open as the tyrant sitting next to her started the pickup she'd had so much trouble starting.

Wesker easily maneuvered the cumbersome old pickup so that it was facing the exit and took off as Claire saw the creatures thrashing after them in the rearview mirror.

"What did you just call me?" Claire was finally able to get out.

The truck filled with dark laughter. "No reason to remain prudent. Hmm, Claire?"

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><p><em><strong>Okay, I know I said I wasn't going to be able to post in a while, but here it is! I promise that in the next chapter there will be more of an explanation on Obilade's virus.<strong>_

_**Oh, and guess what? I just realized I killed off all of my made of characters! Well, aside from David! O.o That makes me seem racist, I swear I'm not racist!**_

_**Oh yeah, did I confuse you guys with Chris popping up in the middle with that two days later thing? I wasn't sure if I was going to put it at the end or in the middle, so I just left it where it was.  
><strong>_

**_Anyway, review and tell me what you think._**

**_SO I FORGOT TO PUT THAT I'M COMPLETELY AWARE THAT HYENAS AREN'T MEMBERS OF THE CANINE OR FELINE FAMILY, THEY'RE SO UNIQUE THEY HAVE THEIR OWN BREED. BUT THAT DOESN'T MEAN CLAIRE KNEW THAT.  
><em>**

**_P.s. I for real probably won't be able to post for a while now!_**


	11. Chapter 11: Lost in Darkness

**Hey guys, I know, an up load. Finally! I'm sorry I put this off for so long, I have many reasons. The last time I was working on a chapter almost a year ago I had saved a few paragraphs and that computer completely crashed on me. Now I have a new computer, I've had it for a while. After my old one crashed I guess I got frustrated and lost my drive to write. I've been extremely busy with college, the boyfriend, the real life. I just kind of fell out of my groove and before I knew it, all this time had passed. I am sincerely sorry. Please excuse my writing, I feel like it's not what it used to be, I just need to get back into the groove of things. Well I hope you enjoy, I had high hopes for this chapter, but now it didn't really turn out how I wanted it to...**

**AN: So I had to edit a few things! Sorry for the inconvenience! **

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><p>Chapter 11: Lost in Darkness<p>

************Jill

_Where am I?_ Jill awoke in darkness, dazed and disoriented. Having no idea where she was she was still able to gather from the dank and wet air that she was underground somewhere. A basement? perhaps a cave? Hell, maybe she was being held prisoner in a dungeon somewhere; that wouldn't surprise her in the least. Jill knew one thing, and that was that she was tired of being held captive by unknown forces.

Her mouth was dry and she had an overwhelming feeling of thirst, indicating that she had been out for quite some time. Jill sat up slowly on what seemed to be an old sofa caked in dust. Still feeling the effect of whatever was shot into her neck earlier, Jill gazed at the only shred of light available in the room; dust floated lazily before her tired eyes. The light emitted from a small rectangular window high up on the concrete wall close to the ceiling. Jill slid her feet over the edge of the sofa and they hit the floor with a click. _May as well try and get an idea of where I am, _she thought and proceeded to the high window.

"Shit!" She exclaimed as she almost took a tumble over a table placed in the middle of the floor. "Stupid table." Seeing she could use the table to her advantage, Jill slid it across the floor, shuffling her feet so she wouldn't trip over anything else, until it hit the hard wall under the window. She climbed up without effort and peered out.

"A garden..." she mumbled. What looked like a vast garden lay before her. It was dark outside and there were many hedges blocking her view so she couldn't see very far. The full moon created lonely shadows on the dark earth, and the few trees she could see danced in the wind. _Well, there's no way I'm fitting through here. I couldn't fit my shoulders through, let alone my ass. _

With a sigh, Jill stepped down from the table and tried to get a better look at the room, or whatever it was, she was being held in. Peering hard until her eyes finally focused in the darkness, Jill spotted a lamp on a crate next to the sofa she had gained consciousness on.

"Please work," she pleaded as she turned the switch two times. With relief, dim light spread across the room, which was in fact a basement of some sort. It was a rather large basement with few items or furniture which made it look bare and somewhat spooky to Jill. It somewhat reminded her of Raccoon city or some rooms in the Spencer mansion. There was the sofa, which she had woken up on, the crate and lamp, and the table she had moved by the window. There were some stacked boxes far off in one corner, most stored papers and magazines, and an open doorway with just the frame that she later discovered led into a tiny bathroom with a showerhead jutting from the wall that had a drain built into the concrete, and a small disgusting looking toilet beside it. Later Jill would become very accommodated with this room, many days of her life would be lost to nothingness.

Jill glanced down at the crate that held the lamp and saw a glass of water sat on it's surface with a piece of paper propped up against it. Jill picked up the note...**"Drink up"** It read; red lips stained the corner of the page as if whoever had written the note had signed it with a kiss.

"You've got to be kidding me," Jill grunted and rolled her eyes. Deciding the beverage was harmless and safe to drink-_why would they hold me captive only to poison me-she_ took a sip of the much needed water.

****************Claire

Claire clinched her eyes shut as Wesker sped towards the entrance gate, preparing to bust though it. _This is crazy...this isn't happening! I'm dreaming. That's it I'm still knocked out and laying safely on Atu's couch...I'm not in my dead friend's pickup truck with a mad man in scrubs...Now let's be reasonable, Claire. Even after all you've been through, the nightmares you have are never as bad as real life. _

Sensible Claire was right once again, and she was completely aware of that; there was no fooling Sensible Claire. The gate they were about to collide with was proof enough. Claire gripped the handle jutting out from the dashboard and held on for dear life with her un injured hand as Wesker crashed through the gate causing a loud ruckus. The old truck swerved a bit from the impact and slid on the wet earth, but Wesker somehow maintained control. Claire saw his eyes dart to the rearview mirror and she turned to look out of the back window. To her horror, two of those..._things_ were pursuing them, thrashing their hairy arms and jerking uncontrollably. They were fast. _Too fast_, Claire thought wide eyed.

Wesker floored the accelerator and the truck tried to gain friction in the mud, when they began to move, the pickup swerved in the wet earth again making Claire's heart skip a beat. Wesker corrected and drove as fast as he could down the long narrow muddy road. Claire looked back again through the open window and the monsters were still racing after them, and gaining.

"Redfield, you have to shoot."

"Are you crazy?" exclaimed Claire. "I can't hit those things in a moving vehicle. Hitting them when standing still is hard enough!" Despite her protests, Wesker tossed the gun into her lap, which wasn't as painless as one would think. The girl looked dumbly from Wesker to the shiny 9mm sitting in her lap when a loud thud sounded from the bed of the truck. The Redfield gripped the gun in her good hand and quickly turned to shoot. However, the creature was right up on her. Claire pulled the trigger once and hit it in the chest almost at point blank. Black hair and a small amount of blood flew threw the air. The creature moaned in pain, and in a rage it advanced toward the open window. Claire shot again in a panic and missed as Wesker briefly lost control on the wet road.

"Ah!" Claire screamed as she jumped back from the monster forcing it's way through the tiny window, thrashing it's jagged finger nailed hands. Trying to kick it back through the window, Claire aimed her foot at it's ugly face and immediately jerked her leg back in hot pain as it ripped through her skin with it's dirty nails. She gave out a yell and Wesker swerved as the creature's claws came within inches from his unshaven face. But this time Wesker couldn't gain control of the old pickup...

The creature fell backwards, tumbling out of the truck bed, and Claire, unsecured by a seatbelt, was thrown violently around in the cab. Trying desperately to gain control, Wesker overcorrected and the front end of the truck went crashing into a ditch causing them to flip into the air. The truck barrel rolled in the thick elephant grass, leaving a destructive path behind it, and landed upside down.

*************Wesker

The tyrant sucked air between his clenched teeth as a deep gash on his forehead and his broken ribs were slowly regenerated by his superior cells. Although most of his injuries lasted only a brief time, it was often painful nonetheless. He was angry at having wrecked the dead woman's truck, he didn't like losing control. Although his full memory hadn't been completely restored, Wesker still maintained the same personality.

Hanging upside down, Wesker searched for his seatbelt, released the buckle and had to brace himself so he wouldn't fall on his head. He managed to crawl out from the mangled truck through the driver side window and got to his feet. That's when he remembered the girl. Wesker got on his hands and knees, the thick rain splashed mud up around him. Crouching, he got a look at the girl. Her side of the truck was crushed, almost flattened, her legs were dangerously caught in a space where the roof had bent downward, her head was touching the seat and she was sitting up right. She had been unsecured by a seatbelt and he recalled her body being thrown about in the vehicle like a ragdoll; to him she looked lifeless, he couldn't tell if she was covered in blood, mud or both. Too bad, he had almost felt as if he owed the false nurse something after what she had done for him back at that sorry excuse for a relief camp. However, he had aided her once already when he pretended to have an epileptic episode while that vile man made advances towards her. Just as he was about to get up and leave the accident, to his surprise Claire let out a big gasp and opened her eyes, she immediately wrenched in pain. _She still has life in her yet_, Wesker thought as he stared with curiosity at the girl.

"Help me out of here," Claire managed, pleading with her blue eyed, mud caked face. "I can hear them coming." She was right. Wesker could hear the many noises produced by those strange creatures and the sound of many trampling feet. He stole a glance over the truck and saw a pose of them running towards the crash site. Wesker grabbed her by her good hand and had to work to get her legs free from the truck. Once he did, he pulled her roughly to her feet. Claire stumbled a little, but nothing else was broken, and she was able to gain balance.

"Why isn't it ever a dream?" Claire mumbled mostly to herself as she leaned against the truck gripping her side. perhaps she would have been in more pain if not for the adrenaline coursing through her veins and the shock she was in. Not really caring what she was talking about, Wesker searched the ground for anything they could use as a weapon and too his annoyance, there was a louds screech that emitted from one of those monsters which sounded very close by. The tall man peered past Claire and spotted the closest creature making it's way toward them, concluding it must have been the other one that was chasing them before.

"We have to go," Wesker said coolly, turned and began to walk away. _I can take care of a few of them, but I don't fully understand my condition yet...regeneration is slower. On top of that, I don't know the nature of this new virus...My memory is still fragmented. _

"Yeah." Claire complied reluctantly, she really didn't want to go anywhere with him but she had no choice. Either way, she had to face a monster.

"Through here," He instructed and disappeared behind the tall grass. Claire turned and saw the advancing monsters, the closer one was only a few feet away now. It spotted Claire and began running in her direction at full speed, thrashing and jerking wildly. In a panic, Claire made a wild dash in the direction Wesker had gone and soon caught up with him. Under other circumstances, say that she had a gun, Claire would have stood her ground and taken care of that one measly monster.

They made their way hastily through the unforgiving African brush trying to distance themselves from the threat that lurked behind them. Wesker concentrated on getting as far away from them as he could so that they could no longer track them. He figured the creatures sense of smell was heightened, along with other abilities and senses. The girl was slowing down behind him, he could hear her labored breaths and dragging foot. He concluded that she must have hurt her leg in the crash. Nevertheless, they had to keep going; Claire was lucky she wasn't injured any worse than that.

"I-I think something's wrong," Claire managed, the pain in her voice tangible.

Wesker glanced at her but kept going "You need to pick up your speed, Miss Redfield."

_That's easy for you to say, jerk...really though, something's wrong with you, Claire. _Claire's temperature began to rise. She couldn't tell whether it was a result of the heat in this God forsaken country, their hurried pace, or both. And to make matters worse, the rain was still pelting down in big globs, obscuring her vision and making weeds stick to her paling, damp skin. Not only was she hot, but the scratch from that monster on her leg was burning like crazy. Claire felt as if she couldn't continue on much longer, she was exhausted as a result of the adrenaline wearing off and needed to take a break soon.

Claire glared at the tyrant as he led them further into the forest. He was wearing nurses scrubs from the encampment. She wondered how he had obtained them, and became angered by the thought of him killing one of her friends in order to get them.

"Where did you get those?"

Wesker glanced back at Claire once again, "where did I get what?"

"Those clothes. You killed someone for them didn't you?" venom in her voice.

"No, actually. I found them in the resident's locker room." He said matter-of-factly. "You need to be quiet."

Well that was a relief. Claire was just thankful she wasn't following behind him with nothing but an open backed hospital gown on.

"Excuse me," Claire said annoyed. "I don't take orders from you."

"Perhaps not, Miss Redfield. But nevertheless, you need to-"

That's when loud rustling came from behind them. At first, Wesker believed it was either an animal or the heavy rain and wind. That was before one of those human like creatures lunged at Claire, it's skin covered in coarse black hair, still wearing nurses scrubs similar to the ones Wesker now wore from the camp. Wesker gripped Claire's wrist and tugged her out of the way with so much force it almost caused her to fall over.

There was a loud screech and two more of the monsters emerged from the tall overgrown weeds. Claire looked up in horror and saw that one more was up in the tree tops, jumping from limb to limb. When it landed on a fat branch it glared down at them with rage. Wesker's fight or flight instinct kicked in, and his body chose flight. Pulling Claire along with him, _she's slowing you down_, Wesker ran through the weeds that soon turned into a vast jungle. Wesker, not being in his right state of mind, and still unaware of his full abilities believed he and Claire were no match for the creatures that lurked behind them. So they ran and tripped over vines, got caught in thorns, and yet they still ran. Wesker let go of Claire and she tried to keep up with him but he was too fast. Soon Wesker was so far ahead of her that she couldn't see him through the rain and vast foliage.

********************Claire

Claire kept running feeling as if her leg was going to give out on her any minute, the burning had vastly increased and she was doing everything she could to not fall down flat on her face. She felt as if she was going to hurl but continued forward, there was no way she was going to let one of those things get her after all she'd been through. Thinking this, Claire picked up her pace, looking down at her feet while she ran when all of a sudden they were no longer connect with the earth. To Claire's dismay she was falling, she tried to turn her body and grab something, a vine, anything, but couldn't get a grip and slid down an embankment into rushing water.

Her not so elegant dive took her below the water's surface and she swallowed a lung full of hot liquid. Claire panicked and floated back up to the surface only to be carried violently by the current. Trying to keep her head above water, Claire frantically searched for an escape but to her dismay found none as the water continued to bring her head under.

_Well, Claire. This might be it._ The burning from the scratch on her leg seared all the way up her left side. From the wreck to the run and her crash from her adrenaline rush, Claire's limbs were finally giving out on her. And as her mind wanted to keep fighting, to keep going, her body did not. Claire Redfield sank into darkness...

*******************Wesker

The strong current eventually washed Wesker up on a small bank jutting out from the forest. Although he wasn't dead or unconscious the events that had recently occurred had greatly depleted his stamina. After being dead, or rather, in a dormant state for quite some time, and in a coma for a while, Wesker still wasn't back to his old self.

Wesker rolled over on his stomach getting to his hands and knees and eventually his feet. The tyrant had been running through that vast forest from those creatures and had ran straight over the edge of a small cliff and into the river. Little did he know that Claire Redfield had experienced the same thing. He looked around attempting to gather his bearings, wanting to find the most convenient way of escape. The current had died down a lot, and the dreaded rain that had lasted for hours had completely stopped.

Out of the corner of his eye, Wesker thought he saw something floating down the way. Peering, he recognized it to be a body, in fact, it was the body of the Redfield girl. Not knowing exactly why he felt the need to help her (which he would soon figure out that answer) Wesker treaded cautiously into the slower current towards her body. He scooped her up and her body lay limp in his arms.

As quickly as he could Wesker rushed to the bank and placed Claire flat on her back. Tilting her head upward, he checked her pulse and found none. He then gingerly opened her mouth and placed his over hers and breathed in; this almost came instinctively to him, then he began the chest compression. He wasn't sure how he knew how to do this, this was a part of his brain that was still in fragments. However, Wesker guessed that he had learned it long ago and it therefore had to be part of his long term memory.

After his first count there was no response from the drenched, lifeless body. Wesker placed his mouth over Claire's once more and began to count as he pressed up and down on her chest. This time there were results! Claire retched forward and coughed up a lot of water. It was painful, and it wouldn't stop coming. She continued to vacate her body of water and whatever else remained in her stomach from earlier that day that seemed so long ago. A journal fell out from the back of her shorts and tumbled onto the soft bank.

Wesker stared at her with pity and grabbed the journal that had fallen; they had both just been through quite a lot. He wanted to move but knew she didn't have the strength, especially not after he had just revived her and he didn't want to carry her out of the forest. He'd much rather leave her, if that were the case, and let her find her own way out.

After Claire was finished vomiting, she sat up shakily.

"Ow!" She cried through clenched teeth as her hand shot to the source of her pain. Her leg, where she had received the scratch from that bumbling monster, was inflamed. Suddenly, searing pain took over her whole body causing Claire to crumple over in excruciating pain. She felt as if her entire body was on fire. Her heart began to race and she broke out into a cold sweat.

"I..." the rest was inaudible.

"What was that, dear heart?" Wesker, already confused as to what was taking hold of the girl, leaned closer to Claire.

"I...think I'm infected."

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><p><strong>So I've got a lot to do with this story, I really feel like I need to get back into the groove of writing. I really didn't ready much over this chapter so sorry for grammatical errors and such. I know the flow isn't as great and I really need to work on my bookisms. ANYWAY I hope you enjoyed. <strong>


	12. Chapter 12: Safe

**So here's another chapter. I know it's short. I feel like I still need to get back into the grove of things. Tell me what you think!**

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><p>Chapter 12<p>

************Leon

1 Week later...

A man clad in black ops gear from head to toe leapt from the chopper and landed with a soft thud. Special agent Leon Kennedy followed suit, his trusty semi-automatic pistol in hand. Immediately beads of sweat formed on his forehead as the hot Tanzanian sun beamed down upon him. While waiting for the other two agents to meet them on the dusty road, Leon had a moment to get his first look at their destination. He raised his hand to his forehead to shade his eyes from the glaring sun so that he could get a better look at the Terra Save encampment that lay ahead.

They had arrived in Tanzania yesterday afternoon with the UN professional. As he had told Claire a few weeks earlier, Leon had been assigned another babysitting job (that seemed to be all he was getting lately), which was supposed to be simple enough. He had been told to act as a personal body guard and to ensure the safety of Rex A. Lewske, the United Nations Humanitarian Affairs Officer.

Part of Officer Lewske's job was establishing peaceful relations between the US and other nations in order to form allies between those nations. After Kijuju's most recent bioterrorist attack that occurred nearly two months ago, certain people thought it would be a good effort to aid the small villages that were effected in Tanzania. Another part of Lewske's job was to help in disaster or relief management. Leon speculated that there were other reasons why the US had decided to provide aid in the aftermath of the attack that wasn't purely just out of the goodness of their hearts. Politicians always had ulterior motives, especially when it involved bioweapons.

Although, anybody who knew anything about politics and the united states could figure out what he had already. Even if something else was going on with say, bioweapons trading, whether he liked it or not, Leon was there to do a job. He wasn't there to investigate illegal trading, nor was he authorized. Which was the downside to being on a job like this, he just hoped he wasn't going to wind up contributing in any way to sketchy work among nations.

This morning, however, Leon Kennedy had been assigned another job other than babysitting Mr. Lewske. When they had arrived by private jet and entered the hotel yesterday, some of Lewske's people tried to contact the encampment but to no avail. Apparently there had been a fairly brutal storm a week ago, and one of the locals surmised that the lines may have been damaged. Officer Lewske had been schedule to make an appearance at the encampment later today, however Leon cautioned him against it and urged the do-good UN worker to let him take a team to check out the camp first...just in case.

Something sounded fishy about the fact that the lines had been damaged a week ago and that no one had bothered to go check it out up until now. He knew that sometimes Terra Save camps relied on local medical supplies because they often ran out, and with an outbreak as big as the one this area had encountered, they were likely to require a lot of supplies. What he was unaware of was that a certain mole had severed the lines the night he escaped with Obilade's virus.

But there was another problem. Leon knew that Claire Redfield had arrived at the camp a few weeks earlier in order to provide aid. If the phones were out and something had gone wrong, that meant that Claire, along with everyone else at the camp, could be in real trouble. Leon had remembered his promise to stop by and see his long time friend, he hoped that reunion would be simple and free of anything that liked to rip the flesh off of humans. Call it instinct, intuition or even paranoia, but Leon couldn't deny that he felt something was wrong deep in his gut.

Leon turned to his other three comrades covered in tactical gear.

"Now there's no need for us to scare any one at the camp so you guys can put away your weapons for now. They're under enough strain as it is, they don't need a suspicious group of men covered in tactical gear making matters worse." Leon said this as he holstered his gun, and the men followed by putting theirs away as well. "We're just here to make sure there weren't any problems. Hopefully the phone line was cut out as a result of the storm they had a week back, and nothing else..."

"But you think something worse happened don't you, sir?" Asked Greenly, the soldier standing in front of him. "Otherwise we wouldn't be out here like this."

Leon sighed and looked towards the camp, "Maybe...but it's just a feeling. It's better to be safe than sorry. We just have to be prepared for it."

"This ain't your first rodeo, sir. Tell us what you think," piped up another soldier.

"Well, anything could have happened. I'm sure there are plenty of militia groups still around that would love to get their hands on some of the supplies at that camp-"

"Or there was another outbreak," Greenly cut in.

"Yeah. Or that," replied Leon. "Look, let's just get over there and figure out what the problem is instead of standing around and guessing what it could be." Greenly shrugged and they headed in the direction of the camp.

It didn't take the team long to get to the encampment from where they were dropped, but before Leon even got around to the front gate he knew something was wrong. The gate was demolished and there were deep tire tracks imprinted in the dirt leading out of the camp as if in a frenzy. What worried Leon even more was that there were about a dozen pair of foot prints following those tire tracks.

_Claire, _Leon thought and quickly unclasped his pistol. After seeing Leon draw his gun the other men did the same.

"Something bad happened here," Leon whispered to the men as he proceeded forward cautiously.

He entered through the demolished gate and listened for any sound. The camp looked like an old ghost town but instead of there being empty western shops, houses and saloons, there were giant white, dust covered tents. Making sure it was clear, Leon then proceeded to the closest tent.

Leon peered in cautiously with his gun aimed and ready, however it was empty, save for the turned over cots and medical supplies strung out all over the place.

"You three go and check out the other tents, but be cautious." He urged. "I'll go check out that office building, maybe there will be something in there that will give us a hint as to what happened here." The men nodded and a 'Yes Sir!' rang out from each of them, and then they were off to do as they were told.

As Leon headed towards the rusted building, he couldn't help but think that what ever happened here was what he had feared. And Claire...where was she? He knew that she had been housed off of the camp site some miles away, but Leon wasn't a fool. Even if Claire wasn't at the camp when the accident occurred, what was stopping her from seeking help?

The upside was that they had yet to find any bodies, and the encampment looked stranded for that matter. If Chris Redfield's little sister was missing, Leon couldn't help but feel as if he was responsible for finding her even though that's not what he was here for. Even if Leon couldn't find Claire, he knew there were people that could and after he and his team met back up at the extraction point he would immediately contact the BSAA's West African branch and have them on it as soon as possible.

Leon gently pushed open the rusted door and did a quick sweep of the room. It was dark, and Leon had guessed that the power must have been shut off save for a back up generator that was still working to illuminate small green lights high up on the wall. He clicked on his flashlight and searched the room briefly but saw nothing until he found a small amount of blood on the floor. He cautiously continued to search and came upon a curious little descending stair case that seemed to lead to a well lit room.

The agent followed the stairs down and grunted at the lab set up in front of him. This wasn't much different from the dreams he often had of raccoon city. He was beginning to wonder if it would ever be possible to eliminate the whack jobs on this planet. That's when he saw the body of the deceased Obilade. Leon bent downward and checked the man's pulse even though he had obviously received a shot to the head; he was dead.

His ears perked up and his hair stood on end when he heard the whimper come from the far corner of the room beside what seemed to be a tank. The agent got to his feet and aimed his gun in that direction as he slowly made his way around the steel operation table that obscured his view. There was an African woman cowering down in the corner by the tank. It looked as if she was covered in blood."

"Ma'am, are you okay," Leon asked with his gun still fixed on the woman. She seemed to whimper something inaudible.

"Ma'am," Leon repeated, his anticipation growing.

"Help me!" The woman yelled and Leon staggered backwards by what he saw. The woman looked completely distraught, a mixture of blood and tears came from both corners of her eyes, as it also did from her mouth, nose, and ears. She seemed to be cradling her stomach, and Leon could see that dried blood also covered her hands.

Not knowing whether the woman was suffering form some infection or was just severely hurt, Leon simply stood where he was with his gun trained on her. The woman began to crawl towards him, her face contorted in pain and smeared with blood and tears, her arm reaching out for him.

"Get back!" demanded Leon, gun ready. "Are you infected?"

The woman stopped but simply stared up at him.

"Are you infected?" He repeated, "and did you kill this man?" Leon motioned to Obilade's lifeless body.

"No," the woman shook her head, "that be dear Claire who done that. And I'm not infected that I know of. I was shot by im," said the woman as she gazed past Leon.

This put Leon at ease somewhat and he dropped his gun. Still, he kept his distance from the woman, something more was obviously wrong with her other than the gunshot wound. And another thing bothered him, the fact that this woman claimed that Claire killed a living man. If it were true, he was sure she had good reason to do so.

"Is Claire Redfield here? Is she alive?"

The woman raised her eyebrow curiously at the man that stood before her, "There's nobody here, sir. Save for me. And as for her being alive, I hope so."

Leon finally let down his guard, found something for the woman to wipe her face off with and bent down to her level handing it to her. The woman took it gently from his hand, and began to wipe away at her eyes.

"What's your name?"

"Abena," she eye him.

"Abena, can you tell me what happened here?"

The woman nodded and sat the blood smeared cloth aside, Leon was slightly disturbed by the new spout that began to trickle from her tear ducts but he kept a straight face. It was obvious this woman was unaware as to the extent of her condition.

"I'm not exactly sure," she began. "It seems as if many days 'ave passed. That night there was a big storm that knocked out the power. There is an automatic generator that kicks no in dis building in the event of a power outage, and it's supposed to supply power to the tents that need it. Except that night everyting went off. The machines for the patients, the lights...so I came here, in part to fix the generator and also to find the doctor." She made a gesture towards the lifeless body behind Leon.

"I found the doctor, alright," Abena shuddered. "I came in and noticed that stairwell, much like you did. I thought it was odd that it had previously been covered by a bookcase. Nevertheless, I followed it and found Obilade down here, conducting an experiment of some sort...I was shocked when I saw who he was working on. The woman that was lying right on that table when I saw her was covered in a thick layer of hair but I still could never mistake who she was. She was one of the patients all of the staff here had thought to be dead. She had arrived in critical, and had died in critical. After some time I realized that those people who were in critical had probably never died, but instead were used for experiments in that devilish man's lab down here," the woman spat, glaring at the body of the dead doctor.

"Dr. Obilade became furious when he saw me. I turned to run out but he followed me and that's when I heard the shot. I didn't think I'd been hit until I looked down and saw the blood soaking my scrubs. So that's when the obvious happened, I fell to the floor, certain I was dead. I saw feet scurry past me, and that creature that had once been a patient here busted through the door and Obilade hurried after it...not long afterward someone else came in, and I couldn't believe it was my dear Claire. She cradled me as I thought I gave my last breath. But I must have passed out or something from the blood loss because I woke up some time later to find Obilade dead, myself in searing pain, and the encampment completely empty of life." She stared off in thought, "I've been here ever since, I even managed to patch myself up."

Leon was slowly putting together the pieces. Apparently something had escaped from this lab that night, and he believed it was somewhat responsible for the missing people. However, something had also driven Claire to shoot this doctor, and now she had disappeared altogether. It was becoming obvious to him that someone else may have had a hand in the events that occurred here.

Right now Leon knew that what he had to do was to contact the BSAA, probably put the woman under quarantine and give her treatment, have a team thoroughly search the camp, and get back to the Officer Lewske to relay the bad news.

"Thanks, Abena," said Leon as he got to his feet. "Now I'm going to go get that help you asked for."

**************Wesker

The tall blond was sitting on a the dirt floor reading _Curious Georgia and the Doctor with the Bloody Scalpel _in glorious silence. That silence was suddenly broken by the girl stirring on the donated cot next to him. Wesker placed the journal aside for the time being, he'd had enough of those adventures for a while, and waited patiently as Claire awoke.

She had been in and out the past couple of days, Wesker hoped that her body was finally finished fighting with the doctor's special little virus and that he would see results soon. Either her body would rid itself of the virus or bond with it, he wished for the later. If Claire Redfield bonded with the virus, perhaps she could be of more use to him than if she didn't.

Claire's eyes fluttered open and wondered around a little until they happened upon the man sitting next to her.

"Please no," Claire moaned in exasperation. "I've died and gone to hell for shooting Dr. Obilade, haven't I?"

"Actually, you're very much alive and a lot less disoriented than I expected," Wesker said humorlessly.

Wesker got to his feet and began to fiddle around with a mixture on a table against the wall. Not having the proper equipment out in the wilderness to keep a person that's been in and out for almost a week hydrated, Wesker had to use other means to give her fluids and nutrients. Now that Claire was fully awake, it was the proper time to give her deprived body what it needed. This time Wesker, nor anyone else, would have to force her unconscious self to ingest the concoction by mouth. Wesker handed her the beverage and the girl eyed it suspiciously.

"You're body needs it, you've been out for nearly a week now."

"A week!" Claire exclaimed as she forced her stiff arms to take the bowl from Wesker. Claire took a gulp of the concoction and immediately regretted the bitter taste of whatever it was the jerk had given her.

"Drink it all, Miss Redfield."

Claire took another sip and grimaced, "Well, are you going to tell me what this place is and why I'm stuck here with you."

"I wouldn't be so ungrateful if I were you, Claire," he hissed. "You're stuck here with me because I carried you here instead of letting you die out by that river." Wesker glared down at the ungrateful girl and turned, pacing toward the exit. Claire's shame was easily overpowered by the undying hate she had for him, if he expected her to feel any gratitude towards him, he was dead wrong.

"As for where we are," Wesker said with his back turned to her, "we're in a remote village deep in the forest; I think we're still in Tanzania. This is a sick hut, where the villagers keep their sick."

And with that, he disappeared through the archway, still wearing his nurse's scrubs, leaving Claire to ponder what he had just said.

If they were really where he said they were, Claire's chances of contacting the BSAA were long gone. Then something hit her. She hadn't talked with Chris in nearly two weeks, surely he and Jill knew something was up. If Chris hadn't flown down here already to find her himself, then surely he had contacted the BSAA's West African branch and talked to his old partner Sheva Alomar, and told them to go check it out.

Then something else hit her; Leon. If she'd had any doubts beforehand she didn't now. Knowing that Leon was supposed to be in Tanzania right about now and remembering his promise to come see here was a great comfort. Claire felt that with those odds, surely it wouldn't be long before someone found her.

Slightly more relieved, Claire tried to sit up in order to get a better look at the hut she was currently confined to. Her sheet slid down and the cool air kissed her soft, bare skin. Realizing she was naked, Claire yanked the sheet back up and around her and plopped back down on the cot, her cheeks burning a crimson red.

_Great, he's not only a sadistic, tyrant, megalomaniac, virus loving jerk! I can go ahead and add pervert to the list now!_


	13. Chapter 13: Big Plans

Chapter 13 Big Plans

******************Claire

Claire glared up at two very dark complected villagers, reluctant to let them help her bathe and dress, as Wesker had informed her was their intention. So maybe he wasn't the disgusting pervert she had once accused him of being. Well, perhaps _disgusting _still applied. With all of those viruses inside of him, Claire wasn't so sure Wesker even functioned like a regular human being, if he ever was one at that.

Claire Redfield then found herself wondering about the Tyrants childhood, finding it hard to picture the devil as a child at all, let alone him with loving parents. She then mentally smacked herself for wanting to delve deeper into the man, deciding he was the last thing that she wanted on her mind. There were more important matters, such as whether or not her brother knew she was missing by now. Or perhaps if Leon had landed in Tanzania yet only to discover the camp in shambles and one missing Claire Redfield.

A deep sorrow hit Claire as the two "Nanny's" prepared her washing water-in her subconscious mind she wondered how sanitary they were, being in a village. The Terra Save camp _was_ in shambles. Claire had been there, and yet...she couldn't fix it, she couldn't save them. Her eyes began to water as she remembered her dear friend Abena, laying in her arms, one broken, while taking her last breath. And she remembered Atu, who had shown her so much kindness, screaming as one of those _things_ tore into him and she escaped into that retched building where Dr. Obilade performed terrible experiments on the patients.

_Bastard_, she thought and quickly wiped away at the tears that were forming in her eyes. It's not as if the Redfield was embarrassed. She simply didn't want to alarm the two villagers in any way, she wasn't sure how they would react to her crying.

However, the embarrassing part was about to come. Claire didn't want help "bathing," if that's what you called being wiped down with a washcloth by two strangers, but she definitely needed it. She was surprised at how difficult it was to move. Her body had locked up, becoming stiff in the short time she was out. Ashamed as she was to be butt naked in front of the two women, she was pleased that it went by quickly as she listened to them talk in their strange language that involved many clicking sounds.

Claire found it somewhat odd that Wesker had been given refuge in such a remote place out in the middle of..._where, exactly? _The traditional way in which these women were dressed implied that they were from a tribe that wasn't used to seeing Caucasians. Claire decided that if she felt the need to speak with him she would ask. For now, she was focused on getting dressed and learning to use her legs properly again.

_How had he done it so easily? _She thought hotly. _Let's not forget, Claire_, said the little voice. _He's not normal. The sooner you're away from him, the better. _

Once Claire was dressed, the two women smiled widely at her. And even though they couldn't understand her, Claire thanked them, and they left shortly after. Claire was so comfortable to be in her clothes again, she took in a deep breath, smelling the dirt and the aroma of the dry grass the hut was made of. That comfort was broken when crazy Alfred Ashfords hair thief appeared through the grass entrance.

Wesker stopped where he stood, studying Chris's little sister. "Already up and on your feet. Impressive."

"What do you want?" annoyance in her tone.

"To see how you're feeling, dear heart."

"Please," she spat. "Like you've ever been concerned for anyone but yourself...and don't call me _dear heart,_" she scowled, crossing her arm, wishing he would leave. How she hated that nickname.

"Perhaps you're right. However, I would like to know how you're feeling, nevertheless. Or, could it be that you don't remember," he said slyly. Said, not asked, as if Claire were lesser than him, or an idiot. She stared at him questioningly.

"Let me refresh your memory, dear heart." He advanced towards her, closing a very large gap. Claire took a step backwards, feeling extremely uncomfortable, threatened even, ignoring the fact that he had called her his special little nick name for the time being.

"During our escape you received a scratch on your right leg from one of that idiot doctor's abominations. You contracted the virus and were sick with high fever and chills along with delusions for nearly a week. Because of _me_," he emphasized. "You're still alive."

"So?" Claire glared up at him locking her eyes with his, not backing down.

"So," he hissed. " Stop acting like a displeased, bratty child and start showing some gratitude. As much as I detest the though of being civil with the man I despise the most little sister, it's the attitude we must take towards each other."

"We're even, Wesker. I don't owe you a damn thing." That's the last thing Claire wanted was to have a debt with the devil.

Wesker let out a sigh of annoyance, "Hot headed and stupid, just like your brother."

"Oh really? Chris out smarted and out skilled you back at Mt. Kilimanjaro." And Claire's jaw was in Wesker's grasp as soon as she was finished saying it. Wesker bared his teeth and made sure Claire's face was turned upright, looking into his angry countenance.

"_Chris_ had a stroke of good luck," he growled. "If you can't learn to be civil with me for the time being I'm afraid yours will run out soon." Claire squirmed, trying to break free from his powerful grasp, when he released her, her joints being weak, she fell to the ground.

Wesker turned to leave, "Our time here is running out, soon we'll no longer be welcome," he turned, looking at her over his shoulder. "Perhaps I'll fulfill the village chief's wish and allow him to take you as one of his wives for a few pounds of ivory. It should sell well at the docks." And he was gone.

Claire was fuming. She wished she had done what she'd planned on doing back at the camp to the bastard. If she had an empty syringe right then and there she wouldn't have hesitated to rid the world of one of it's monsters. Claire hated him even more now than ever, this experience was all to reminiscent of their time together back on the island. She was tired of being thrown around like a rag doll.

And the nerve this man had. _Perhaps I'll fulfill the village chief's wish and allow him to take you as one of his wives for a few pounds of ivory. _"It should sell well at the docks," Claire mimicked as she struggled to get to her feet. Claire brushed off the dirt from her knees and shins, smacking her hands together to free them of the residue.

In Claire's mind she knew that the only way for her to get out of this safely was to unfortunately do as Wesker had said and "be civil." However, as soon as they were back to civilization, Claire's only intention towards him was to be completely uncivil. Her hope was to find her brother, and together they would put an end to Albert Wesker once and for all...that was, if she could ever escape him.

****************Jill

Jill shot up from her dreamless nap from the sound of the slot opening on the door. She hurried over to the iron door, much like those seen in maximum security prisons, where a food tray was being slid through the slot. She caught a glimpse of a well manicured hand, that belonged to a slim woman.

"Wait," Jill Valentine pleaded with the person on the other side of the door before she could close the slot. "Please, I've been down here for a week today, can you at least say something to me? Why are you keeping me prisoner here?"

There was silence from the other side. Jill waited patiently. It had been a week and Jill hadn't had any kind of human contact the entire time aside from when her food was brought down to her. Even then, she only experienced silence from the stranger.

"Please, this isn't any way to treat a fellow human being. Say something to me at least. It will help keep me from going crazy down here."

"I can't tell you much, Jill Valentine," came a womans cool voice from the other side. "Only that he has plans for you." With that the dainty clack of heals echoed down what sounded like a long corridor until they finally vanished.

Although it wasn't much, Jill felt some form of hope fill up inside of her. So she wasn't destined to spend the rest of her existence locked up in this basement. At least, that's what she had concluded it was.

Jill took the tray and brought it over to her dusty couch that had turned into her bed. I small sliver of daylight shined in through the tiny window up high on the wall. She stared down at what had been prepared for her today. potato soup with a slice of bread for dipping, a jello cup, and a dressed turkey sandwich. It took a couple of days for Jill to finally crack from hunger and decide that if the food wasn't poisoned she was dead anyway if she didn't eat. Coming to the conclusion that there was a purpose to her imprisonment and that her captors wouldn't end her life by poisoning her food. If they wanted to do that, they would have done so when they first picked her up in her desperate search for Chris.

That day seemed so long ago. She still prayed that Chris was okay, and if he was, that he was looking for her. Being locked up in a basement with little light and little human contact was enough to drive even the strongest of people insane. And Jill was already fragile. Most nights she was haunted by her past in her dreams...of her time being under Albert Wesker's control; forced to hurt her loved ones.

Jill shook her head clear of those nightmares and focused on her food and the sound of the woman's voice. It sounded somewhat familiar. The same woman had been brining her food since she had started her stay in her prison. Jill could only hope that she could get more out of her.

***************Wesker

The last thing he wanted to do was lose his temper with Claire. However, that little remark about Chris being better than him in more than one way pushed him to the edge. Wesker only regretted it because he was so unsure about her condition. He wasn't positive if strain, fear, or any other kind of fight flight emotion would have an effect on the current virus kindling inside of her system.

However, besides being angry, it seemed to have caused no effect. She wasn't relapsing into her symptoms and from what he surmised, she would be fine. Perhaps putting Redfield in her place was the proper action for the time being. Wesker was getting tired of her childishness.

His warning about being civil was strongly advised. The villagers were getting weary of the two strangers. He had communicated to them that he and Claire were family. Being anything but friendly would pose as odd to the villagers.

Wesker understood some of their language by now for the most part, it was very similar to some of the other languages in Tanzania. Although they whispered, his acute hearing heard gossip about him being odd, and demon like. He would have to start being more cautious when near the village.

He supposed that if need be he could destroy them if they got hostile towards them. However, he wasn't entirely certain that he was back to his old self just yet. Progenitor seemed almost nonexistent within his system now. His eyes had phased back to their normal shade of blue, and they no longer glowed with fire. It worried him somewhat. Progenitor was _his_, being deprived of the virus wasn't settling well. He needed his strength, and agility at its peak in order to finally get revenge.

Hell, he needed it to get back to where he was once again. If things went as planned, when he and Claire eventually make their way out of the village and to the docks and off of this godforsaken continent, there was going to be one hell of a reunion.


	14. Chapter 14: The Village

**Okay so here is a little bit for you guys. I do realize that I accidentally changed the side that Claire hurt her arm and leg on in the last chapter. It was on the left side. So just ignore my mistakes, I make a lot of them because I forget some details from my writing when I haven't done it in a while. I hope you all enjoy. **

* * *

><p>Chapter 14: The Village<p>

************************Claire

Climbing out of the cool mud hut, blinded by the bright glare of the sun overhead, she shielded her eyes with her right hand, her newly wrapped left was set in the same sling, taking in her first glance at the quaint village. Traditional homes were set here and there, their mud walls cracked and dried from many hot summers. Sturdy sticks and logs, which were often used as the frames of the structures, could be seen protruding their bare backs in poorly maintained parts of the huts where the mud was slowly, but surely, falling away. The roofs of the houses, _or more like huts_, though Claire, were made out of some kind of tall dried grass like straw. The area was bare of foliage within the village, the roads and walkways between houses a yellowish dirt. Upon her examination of the place, Claire realized she was still in the forest, and by the looks of it still very _deep_ in the forest

"Great." she muttered. She may have been unquestionably annoyed at her situation, but Claire's curiosity was intrigued, and although she was peeved she couldn't help but wonder about the place she was currently. Despite her anger, the girl's lips curved upward in the corners when she saw the traditionally venerable clothing that the villagers wore. There were a few women dressed from head to toe in colorful hats and gowns, their dark hair short and neatly set close to their scalps. She spotted a man in similar clothing, yet his top was shorter and he wore trousers. _Okay so they're not completely shut off from the rest of civilization, _said Sensible Claire_, if they were they'd be running around half naked. _

Claire snorted aloud and thanked goodness that wasn't the case. She respected the differing cultures and their traditional garb, they pleased her in aesthetics. Yet she also was allayed to be spared that part of some older Tanzanian cultures and her unavoidable awkwardness towards them if they were to be interacting in any way.

Originally the impression she had from within the confines of her sick hut was that she and Wesker, whose memory was returning to him rather quickly, were in more of an, aboriginal, village. The two women who had acted as her nannies were dressed in even more traditional clothing than the women she saw walking in the village. Also when the tyrant mentioned something about the village chief taking Claire as his own, she couldn't help but be haunted by an image of a masculine, scantily clad, dark figure with grass around his ankles and waist and a spear in his grip. Still, Claire would be damned if she let that happen, no matter what the chieftain wore.

_Stupid pompous freak, _Claire thought as she replayed in her mind's eye what had happened in the hut earlier between the two of them. If she'd only had some kind of weapon in her possession she would have given the-man-who-thinks-he's-some-kind-of-god a piece of her mind. Unfortunately, _Sensible Claire_, had to bring up the image of a rocket targeting the Uroboros infected face of Albert Wesker as molten lava engulfed his bottom half and how he still managed to come out completely unharmed, unscathed and unmaimed.

The villagers probably thought he was a god, much like the original Americans thought the horse riding gun toting Spaniards and English were gods with their pale skin, fair hair and blue eyes. He could probably convince the villagers of his godliness. Claire knew he was, if anything, cunning. But what she didn't know is that Wesker had no desire to rule over such simpleminded people. She also didn't know that talk of his oddness was present. Wesker was viewed as more of a white devil than a deity. The sooner the two were out of the remote village, the better.

"Right..." Claire said as the image disheartened her courageous thought of teaching Wesker a lesson. Trying to shake the man, who she hoped was far away from her now, out of her head, Claire Redfield ventured further into the village that sparked her childlike curiosity.

Claire breathed in deeply and started down the first path before her. The vast jungle of classic African trees and plants, such as the baobab tree with its thick trunk, the acacia tree with its thin trunk and winding branches, and the doum palm tree with its fruit that produces palm oil that's oh so beneficial in American beauty products, danced in the breeze cast a cool shadow over most of the area. There were ferns and many plants Claire didn't recognize; yet, it was all so beautiful to her. Despite what all had occurred since her arrival in the country, she couldn't help but feel at peace in that very moment. Tanzania, a country that by now she should loathe, drew her in with its soft breeze that brushed lightly against her skin and its authentic nature which no one individual could deny its beauty.

She found herself thinking of her brother and Leon. And with all her soul she wished that they could be there with her. Her fondness over Leon had grown, if that were possible. Before they were friends, two people who had survived the great outbreak in Raccoon City together. And back in 2005 they were at it again in Harvardville with the T-Virus outbreak involving WilPharma. They had survived a lot together, and Claire believed that made them closer friends than any other thing on the planet could do to any two people. She didn't realize until the end of the WilPharma outbreak that perhaps what she wanted from Leon was more than just friendship. The fact didn't matter then because even if the witty, strong willed girl had worked up the courage and decided to pursue it further, Leon had a way with women.

Angela Miller. She must have been a passing thing. Even so, Claire Redfield wasn't sure if what she felt towards Angela Miller at that time was jealousy, but perhaps something more subtle like annoyance. So Claire was silent, and she departed from her longtime friend letting the relationship between them remain the same as it had always been; close but distant. Claire recalled that something similar had happened in Raccoon City with that woman who still followed him around like a ghost; Ada Wong. Although Claire may not have felt much of anything for Leon then in regards to desire to be with him, his seeming obsession with the illusive woman was like a bad addiction; dangerous. They're safety and escape from the city may have been jeopardized by Ada. Claire wondered that if she and Leon were together now if he would still maintain his feelings for Ada Wong. Something deep within her told her that probably rang true.

_Compare yourself to has-been women, that's a really good way to drop your confidence level. _Claire supposed that was also true. As loud birds sang their beautiful songs overhead, she just hoped that wherever Leon was, that he would find her soon and they could get out of this nightmare together like they had always done.

Not far down the dirt path Claire was stopped in her tracks by a small child who stood looking up at her with his large, dark eyes, with a smile on his face and outstretched hands, his palms facing upwards. Claire's confusion subsided when she realized the familiar stance the child was making.

"I don't think I have much of anything," Claire said smiling back down at the boy. His countenance shined brighter and his smile grew wider, making it obvious that her tongue was foreign to him.

"Hmm, let me see," she said as she felt around in her short pockets not surprised when she found nothing seeing as how her clothes had been washed out by someone while she was unconscious. She then relinquished the only possession on her, aside from her clothes, and fumbled with the band of her watch.

Getting down on one knee, much like the Catholic genuflect, she presented the watch to the big eyed boy and he took it from her happily. After she helped him fasten the watch around his wrist which he eyed with much prideful fascination, the boy grabbed her hand pulling her along with eagerness, their feet kicking up the soft dirt as they went. In a moment they arrived at what Claire supposed was the boy's home. A woman sat outside with a woven basket between her legs that Claire could only guess was his mother.

The boy ran to his mother flashing the pretty watch before her eyes and pointed towards Claire expressing that she was the gift giver. The woman stood from her spot and gathered three foreign looking fruits from her basket of which she was in the process of cutting, and handed them to Claire. Claire wanted to kindly reject the fruit but hadn't she just bestowed upon the boy with nothing a wonderful gift that any child in that village would be proud of? That and the fact that she was actually really hungry. It would be rude to deny the fruit.

The boy's mother motioned for Claire to sit with them, and so she took a seat on the ground by the woman. The woman handed her a paring knife and Claire began to cut open the hard shelled fruit, thanking the woman although there still remained a language barrier. The three sat on the ground as Claire ate the surprisingly sweet fruit and the boy stared at the pale skinned beauty in admiration. The woman began to sing a smooth, traditional sounding song and Claire couldn't complain.

As Claire was finishing the last of her fruit the boy ran into his mud hut and brought out some kind of dried jerky, presenting it to Claire. She hesitated in taking it, somewhat afraid of what it might be. Was there much beef in Tanzania? She didn't know, but the boy insisted and she took it. He then tucked his fists under his armpits and flapped his arms like wings as he made quacking sounds.

Claire broke out into a hearty laugh and was surprised at how good it felt and at how good the duck jerky tasted. How long had it been since she had felt anything but anger and fear recently? The time spent with the boy and his mother was like some kind of much needed therapy on Claire's part. Times were dark, much as they had been since this whole mess started, and yet she was still able to laugh amongst these people who she couldn't even understand. The sound of flowing water could be heard off in the distance, perhaps it was the river she had fallen in to during her escape from the infected. Her focus on the sound of the flowing water was so strong that she didn't hear the approaching footsteps.

"Getting comfortable?" Claire felt her stomach knot up at the sound of his voice. She turned and glared at Wesker who stood there in his black nurses' scrubs, his usually clean shaven face surprisingly scruffy.

"What do you want?" She spat, getting up from the ground.

"To discuss our next course of action."

"What makes you think I want to even look at you, much less speak." Claire saw a gleam of light flicker in Wesker's eyes. That hit the nail on the head. He was so quick to anger. Claire supposed she wasn't making it easy, but did he deserve anything that showed the remotest bit of civility towards him? She thought not.

"It's necessary."

"So you can lose your extremely short temper with me again and choke me out? I don't think so," they simply glared at each other, a fire in both of their eyes. "My brother's coming for me, and when he finds you I'll make sure to tell him about that."

Wesker's jaw tightened and his muscles stood out as a result. "You're trying my patience, Claire. However, having the chance to put your dear brother out of commission would be my pleasure." Could she hate this man, or whatever he was, any more than she already did?

_Definitely._

"Oh, really?" She mocked, "Last time you two went neck to neck I'm pretty sure Chris is the one who came out on top, no matter what stupid virus you inject yourself with to try to match him. You're. No. Match." This seemed to not phase him which displeased Claire. Wesker was holding back very well. Claire was shaken when a sly smile crept on his face. Wesker placed his hands behind his back and strolled a few steps as if he didn't have a care in the world.

"_Yes, really_," he mimicked. "Although I may not recall the events that happened between Chris and I before I awoke in that damned camp, I'm still here. Chris could never get the job done right," he said more to himself than to her. "Besides, I have something more dear to him than anything on this planet," he turned, looking Claire straight in the eye. "I have you, dear heart."

That realization sent a shiver down her spine. She feared that was Wesker's goal all along, to hold her hostage and to use her as a weapon against her brother. Why else would he have saved her life? This bothered Claire so immensely that now she wasn't so sure she even wanted her brother to come find her in Tanzania. To do so would be throwing Chris in to immediate danger once again. And Wesker was right, he _was _still here. Yet, she knew her brother could hold his own against Wesker, he had done so before, but what tricks did the tyrant have up his sleeve? Claire knew that if she was involved that Wesker could easily use her as a barrier. She glanced around at the boy and his mother who both had puzzled looks, both of their brows furrowed. She smiled at them and shot a hateful look back at Wesker before she thanked them and said her goodbyes. Not wanting to expose them to the somewhat embarrassing way, when done in front of others, in which she and Wesker communicated. If they were perceived as relatives to the villagers, surely they should act like it instead of be hostile towards each other.

Wesker took the hint and led the way towards the sound of the rushing water as Claire followed behind, keeping her distance. He led her down a path where they could "speak" in private, trees and bushes blocking their view from curious on lookers. Claire looked at the river, the sun gleamed off of its murky yellow surface and caused her to see bright spots of blue and red.

"Are you going to tell me what's _necessary_ so I can go," she asked, squinting her eyes from the gleaming reflection, blinking away the spots.

"I believe this is the Pangani River," he said shortly, "separating Kilimanjaro and Arusha. If I'm correct our location is close to Same."

"Okay, so we make our way to Same and go our separate ways."

"Not exactly."

"And why not? If you think I'm willingly going along with you and whatever you have planned, you're mistaken."

Wesker stepped closer towards her, closing the distance between them causing Claire to flinch a little. "I'm not entirely certain," his tone soft and quite, "that you fully understand your situation, dear hear."

_That pet name again, _her stomach flip flopped.

"You can't hold me hostage, Wesker. I'm not a damsel in distress. I can protect myself."

"I don't doubt your ability to survive and prevail against anything, that's not what I meant," a sly look appeared on his face. _What are you up to, Wesker?_ "You survived Raccoon City, when so many perished, you survived those wretched islands and _Veronica_, and you also survived Harvardville with the WilPharma outbreak. And now this...I'm well aware of your abilities, Claire. However, your current condition is unclear. You _need _my expertise."

"No I don't," she shot back.

"Yes you do, if you don't want to end up like your friends back at that TerraSave encampment."

And unfortunately, the megalomaniac had an excellent point. Claire was wondering why she hadn't transformed or mutated into the monstrosities she had seen at the camp. Those ape like infected whose movements and sounds made your blood curl. Why hadn't she experienced the virus the same as some of her dear friends had? The camp brought back memories of Abena, and she quickly forced it from her mind before her waterworks got going. The last thing she wanted was for Wesker to think he had accomplished something.

"If you know so much, then why haven't I ended up like them?" She glared up at him, her throat sort of stuck from holding back tears over her lost friend. His closeness making her extremely uncomfortable. She could see the few creases on his face and wondered how his skin was so flawless seeing as how old he was. How old was he anyway, almost fifty?

"I know how it's made, and I know how to suppress it. That remains the only reason why you're still you. And provided the right equipment, I may know how to cure it permanently."

Which it may not have been true that was the _only_ reason why Claire hadn't succumbed to the virus, the girl was more than likely resilient to it. Perhaps she carried some kind of antibodies in her blood just as he and Jill had or it could be another phenomena entirely. Wesker wasn't sure, but he didn't have to explain the rest to her. Wesker knew in order to succeed that he had to do this tactfully, one step at a time. He had her where he wanted her.

"So what, you need a lab? And if you know all of this, and assuming it is curable, what makes you think that someone who's sponsored by the BSAA won't be able to cure me?"

"The lack of experience is dominant in most research facilities pertaining to viruses of this nature. Whereas I don't lack that experience," he said matter-of-factly. "By the time they found a cure your transformation will have occurred."

It seemed apparent that Claire was up shit creek without a paddle. If Wesker held the answer to her cure, then what options did she really have? She supposed she could still stick to her original plan, and escape at the opportune moment. Then she would find her brother or Leon and have them take her to the BSAA to synthesize a cure. She then had an epiphany. Wesker's knowledge on how to suppress the virus probably came from Dr. Obilade's journal. If she just grabbed it before she made her escape then whoever was capable of helping her shouldn't have a problem making a cure. She decided confidently that that was her course of action as soon as the time was right.

"How have you been suppressing it, then?"

Claire froze as Wesker's hand lifted to her face, her muscles tightened in preparation for whatever may come. Instead of feeling pain, Claire felt Wesker, with the softest touch, tuck a few loose strands of hair neatly behind her ear causing her to recoil. Wide eyed and fairly confused she observed as Wesker walked to the river bank and plucked a red leaf from a plant. "A certain combination of herbs," he said tossing the leaf into the flowing stream. It made its way down the river, twisting with sporadic velocity, twining its brilliant hue with the murky yellow river and disappeared.

"Um," she said losing her train of thought over Wesker's actions. "So, um. What are you planning?" This encounter had gone on too long. "This doesn't mean that I'm going with you willingly, I'll fight you the whole way." Her disdain for him palpable.

Wesker's laugh was maniacal and he told her his plan.

*******************Claire

Later, Claire sat outside of her sick hut mulling over Wesker's course of action and his odd invasion of her space. That gesture bothered her more than him being violent with her, but in a different way. It confused her, she didn't know whether or not he was just being weird or he was trying to get to her. Whatever the reason, she wasn't okay with him touching her.

They were to follow the Pangani River by foot, unless some form of transportation came upon them, and trek along its banks until they reached where the river met the Indian Ocean in Tanga. From there, they were to make their way to Europe. How exactly, Claire did not know, by then she will hopefully have escaped his calculating clutches. Apparently somewhere in Europe, Wesker still had some ties and Claire gathered that there must be some kind of lab he also had access to. She was silent about expressing what she felt and knew Wesker had in store for her. He obviously not only planned to use her against her brother but more importantly he wanted her for scientific purposes. She would be damned if she let him turn her into his test subject and extract the virus from her body to use for his own dark purposes or place a device over her heart that made her obey his every demand. And they were demands.

_Jill, whatever horrors you faced...I might understand those horrors very soon_.

One thing was for sure, being so close to Wesker earlier, she was well aware that he still wasn't back to his old self. His once menacing yet fierce eyes that glowed with a fiery red were now reverted back to their original calming blue. Somehow that meant he was vulnerable, which also meant that Chris could succeed again this time and make a permanent example out of his longtime foe.

"Please be looking for me, Chris." She said aloud to herself. The sun was sinking behind the tree tops and the creatures of the forest began to sing their nightly song. Yet one call far off in the distance sounded somehow out of place. Claire's first inclination was that it was one of the monkey species in the area making the high frequency call, but a sudden realization caused her to jump to her feet in a rush to warn the villagers. She ran into Wesker in the process and was knocked back a little bit, almost falling down in the process.

"How far off are they?"

"Not far he said," and grabbed her wrist tightly to pull her along with him.

She yanked her arm out of his grip, "I'm not leaving these people to die!"


	15. Chapter 15: No Rest for the Wicked

Chapter 15: No Rest for the Wicked

**************Jill

As the days crawled by for an eternity, she found in her solitude that her disposition was becoming dark. Being one who survived great odds, she was still holding on to whatever threads remained, dangling from those treads like a spider from a thin silk stream, apt to break away with time. Jill had read and studied Zimbardo's Stanford Prison Experiment, as well as other less known psychological experiments within a prison setting. She knew the outcome of the human mind when one was deprived of certain luxuries such as light, human contact, and other things that keep one from going insane. The things that Jill was deprived of were certainly wearing on her morale. Had it not been for her impeccable will to survive, had she been anyone else other than Jill Valentine, she may have cracked. But she was strong and highly resilient. Being pessimistic about her situation would certainly not benefit her in the least.

So she occupied her time. She exercised and when the light shone through her tiny window during the day, she read from the stack of musty old papers and magazines, making sure to fan them out beforehand in case there were any critters between the pages. She didn't want to risk the lamp, fearing the bulb might burn out, until the sun no longer shined through the window.

When she wasn't reading from the water stained pages, she was thinking. Her intuition told her that her longtime partner, Chris, was okay. Perhaps badly injured, but Chris was resilient too-in body more than in mind-and she knew that he could come back from anything. Yet, there was a part of her that questioned her intuition, and that tiny voice feared that he might not have come back from whatever it may be this time. Her doubt was continuously doused out like water on a flame. Jill _knew_ he was alright, she _felt _it.

His little sister, Claire, was a different story, however. Jill had already come to the conclusion that Chris, whatever state he was in, was probably unaware of the danger Claire and everyone else was in. If Wesker was truly back-which she didn't question Claire's information in the slightest-then this world was in danger from his tyranny once again. Jill thumbed through the pages of a musty magazine, catching a whiff each time she turned a page. The pages were a blur of color and text that her dazed gaze was no more focused on than her mind was aware she was flipping through the magazine. She saw the red glow of Wesker's eyes gleam from behind his dark glasses; she heard the low purr of his always cunning voice; she could even smell his scent. It was as if Albert Wesker was in the room with her at that very moment, and Jill's tortured mind began to panic with his memory. Wesker's calm demeanor loomed before her paralyzed figure and she jerked as she heard a startled cry escape her own lips while she envisioned the previously calm man transform into a vengeful lunatic; teeth barred in a face of pure rage. The magazine flapped wildly like a bird flying out of the way of an oncoming vehicle as Jill flung it at the mirage. She hugged her waist with one arm and gripped at her chest with her other hand. _It's not real. You're safe, Valentine. Get a hold of yourself!_ Her mind commanded as the other part of her almost fell into a panic attack.

Breathing in slow and steady until she gained control of herself, Jill began to think more clearly again. She wasn't sure why her memories of Africa had haunted her so horribly. After all she had done, all she had seen, and all the monsters she faced, nothing had affected her more than the things she did while under the control of the device on her chest. Hurting innocents was one thing, but she was beginning to think that the drug had damaged her mind somehow. One thing was for certain; that Wesker lost his humanity in the end. And he had defied death once again. Jill could only hope that Claire had gotten to someone else, preferably the BSAA, by now, realizing that Jill had failed. She prayed Chris knew. And if something had happened to Claire, and somehow Chris had no knowledge of the situation, then what was to happen next? Surely someone knew Jill was missing by now, cramped up down in her captives musty basement. If someone had relayed to Chris that she was missing, then would he not be looking for her?

Jill hoped that wasn't the case. Claire needed her brother more than she did at the moment. Besides, Jill Valentine's patients was running thin. She could endure a great deal, yet how long had it been since she was abducted? A week? Two weeks? A month? Hell, it felt like a year. Jill was planning her escape, trying to draw out a way in which she could somehow get through that door. She considered finding a tool or something to break it free from its hinges. But this was a prison cell block style door, which meant industrial strength, hard to break down in any way. Jill also considered manipulating whoever brought her meals down to her in whatever way possible.

She was still contemplating on ways to escape her dungeon. And she decided that when she got out she would delve deeper in to her own situation and find the people behind this. That's if her captors don't deliver on what the woman had told her from the other side of the steel door. If they had something planned for her, she would fight back. It wouldn't be like it was with Albert Wesker, when they fell from the window, she on the brink of death, he with the mind set of saving her so as to use her for his own purposes. _His test subject._ And if Claire wasn't safe by the time Jill found a way out of her own problems and took care of her own business, then she would assist in any way possible to get Claire out of the terrors she could only imagine the girl was facing.

Jill went to her tiny window and peered out at the garden. If there was a garden, then there was probably a way out through it. _Wesker, _she mused, _how are you still alive?_ She didn't know, and the thought of him shot a chill down her spine. If she found him, would she be able to face him? She brought her hand to her chest, running her finger across the old scars the device left over her heart. _That _was enough to allow her to have the courage and fury to face him. To think that she had respected him once as her S.T.A.R.S. captain. That she had _trusted_ him…She leaned back on the sofa, relaxing her tense body. Perhaps Jill still had and would always have a certain odd respect for Wesker. He was a devious sociopath, yet the most intelligent human being she'd ever known. A tinge of sorrow swept over her as she felt pity for the man who was bred through Spencer's Project W to become nothing more than evil. The outcome of all of their lives would have been different if not for Oswell E. Spencer, the root of all this evil.

Her mind ventured back to Wesker; had his goals been different once? Something told her that he was once a different man and that Umbrella, Spencer, what he was bred for, had molded him into the monster he became. There were times when he allowed her to go without the drug being pumped into her blood stream and he turned the device off. If it weren't for that Jill wouldn't have thought Wesker had any ounce of human decency left. Well that, and the fact that he did offer her a few luxuries and fed her. But do you starve and deprive a soldier who you need to be strong in order to do your bidding? She didn't think so. There were reasons behind Wesker's few acts of decency towards her. Albert Wesker always had reasons behind his actions, he always had a plan. She knew his game, his egotism, his sometimes superficial, always manipulative personality; Wesker never did anything unless it benefited himself in the long run.

Well, one thing was for sure, if Jill ever got out of her predicament, she wouldn't allow Wesker to use Claire the same way he had used her. The man simply couldn't remain a threat on this planet anymore.

**********************Chris

The house was quiet. The soft, metronome-like _tap, tap, tap_ of the leaky kitchen faucet Chris had been meaning to fix long before his accident resounded through each room so much so that it could even be heard upstairs. The plaited clock above the flat screen, _Jill's_ clock that she had been rewarded for one of her many feats, ticked away, its minutes going by ever so slowly. Chris sat in silence, alone in the quiet house, drumming his fingers lightly on his knee. He was anxious, antsy, and above all, worried. Chris's current physical condition rendered him useless, and yet he kept racking his brain for ways to find his partner.

Instead, Chris waited as patiently as an impatient man can wait. He waited for phone calls mostly. Since Jill's disappearance, which Chris kept blaming himself for, he'd been receiving updates from the BSAA, which Mina promised would have someone contact him daily. Thus far they had no leads. Chris couldn't help but feel that he should be out there, that if he were, something would lead him to finding her. Chris was also becoming increasingly worried about his little sister, Claire. Their last phone call had been odd. Although Claire had promised that nothing was wrong, he could hear in his little sister's tone that something was off. And that was days ago, which worsened his worry.

Initially Chris had waited for Claire to get back to him. Surely after she heard the news-Claire being the thoughtful, selfless human being she was-she would have taken the soonest moment to check in on him. As the days dragged on, Chris's worry grew not only for Jill, but for Claire as well, so much so that he took it into his own hands to contact her instead. After many trials of punching in her phone number repeatedly and continuously getting a voice mail box, Chris slammed the phone back in its cradle, feeling lost.

Chris kept going over the same things in his mind. Claire was probably busy with the tasks that TerraSave assigned her, and although she had a phone suited for that area, it was Tanzania, literally in a location that was out in the middle of nowhere. Finding and keeping a signal would be difficult on her part. Chris knew firsthand how big the mess was that they left to be cleaned up back in Tanzania, and he also knew that there were people to be cared for. Yet, he couldn't help but worry because Claire's chances of getting into trouble weren't slim in that country. And as more days passed, the tighter the knots in his stomach were.

There was something else that floated around in the back of his mind while he spent his days alone, helpless to do anything. Why had Jill been in such a hurry to get to him? And who had been trailing her? It occurred to him that maybe he and the girls were being watched by some unknown entity. Yet, since certain organizations such as Umbrella, Inc. and TRICELL were out of commission, he had no inkling as to who it was. Chris had worked out numerous reasons as to what would have brought Jill to pursue him and attempt to contact him repeatedly. He had thought that maybe he left something behind. Or that Jill had noticed their stalker and was fleeing to headquarters. He had thought of every scenario except one; that his sister, Claire, was in far worse trouble than he knew, and that this was in its entirety the sole reason Jill tried to reach him.

Chris brooded over his thoughts as he leaned back in his chair, his head arched backwards, and he let out a deep sigh. Answers were what he longed for, and he wanted to take a direct action approach to get them instead of sitting there crippled in an empty house made for four people. He rubbed his hands over his tired, scruffy face and as he connected the dots some kind of primal fear formulated in his entire being pushing him into a paralysis. When the phone rang Chris jerked so hard his elbow knocked the coffee cup from the table it had been resting on.

Chris maneuvered his crutch, placing it under his shoulder, and made his was hastily to the phone. He grabbed it from its cradle and put the receiver to his ear without answering, not sure who it would be but damned sure who he wished it would be. There was a short silence and then a familiar voice spoke to him.

"Chris Redfield?"

"Something tells me this isn't a courtesy call from my old partner."

"Chris, I have some bad news," said Sheva Alomar on the other line. Yet, Sheva didn't have to tell him, he was already aware of what kind of news it was, he had figured it out moments before the phone rang and broke him from his paralysis.

"Where's my sister, Sheva?"

"...I'm so sorry, Chris. We've got our people on it, searching for survivors. Your sister hasn't been found yet...in fact, not much of anyone has."

Chris slammed his cast against the table as he leaned forward resting his head on the wall, "does the East African branch know what happened?"

"They're still working out the details," she said. "It's not good over here, Chris. There have been sightings of Uroboros. Only three people were found at the camp. Two dead, one a man, the other...well it was something else. A different kind of virus," she paused. "We never should have left as soon as we did."

"And the other?" He pressed, agitation dripping from his tone.

"The other was a woman, a nurse that we have in quarantine right now. And, Chris. She says she knows your sister. She says she got out." At this news Chris felt some weight fall from his shoulders. Still, Claire was missing, and she was in trouble. How could he not have guessed this sooner? Was he so worked up, so beside himself over Jill that he couldn't read between the lines and realize his only blood relative was in danger? And Sheva was right, they never should have pulled out of the infected zone so early, even if all of the B.O.W.'s seemed to be taken care of. But he supposed that's what they brought TerraSave in for; to clean up the rest.

"The call was made by a government agent named Leon S. Kennedy. Does that ring a bell to you?"

"I know of him," Chris responded, remembering the rookie cop who had survived Raccoon City with his sister.

"He and a group of men came on the scene, and he told us about Claire, saying we should contact her brother immediately."

"I'll make sure to thank him if I ever see him again in person."

"The East African branch is sending out a report to your BSAA location. That way you can brief yourself there rather than listening to your old partner work her way through it," he could hear her smile on the other line. "So, when can I expect to see you again? And will you be brining Ms. Valentine along?"

And Sheva didn't know; of course she didn't, how could she? It pained Chris as he proceeded explaining the situation to his old partner; his partner to the end. She expressed shock at hearing that Jill was missing, _again_, and about his accident.

"You should know better than to tussle with bears, Grizzly Adams," she said jokingly, trying to ease the tension.

Despite the severity of it all, Chris still managed to chuckle. "I held my own," he joked back.

"All joking aside, Chris. I promise you that as your partner, as your friend, that I will do everything in my power to find your sister and bring her back to you safe."

"Thank you," Chris didn't doubt her promise at all. "In the meantime, while my body is going through its slow healing process, I'll contact some people on my side and have the director send them in for back up." After a pause he said, "I would give anything to be in your place, Sheva."

Sheva thanked him and asked if there was anything more she could do for him. Chris only asked that she pray for him, and they said their goodbyes. Chris placed the receiver back down in its cradle gently. He fought hard to compose himself, for it took everything he had not to flip the table and send all of its contents across the living room floor. He was angry, he was helpless, and he was torn between finding the woman he loved and his own flesh and blood. When it came down to it, Chris knew where he would go; to Claire. And this conflicted him so badly that he roared as he flung the table top lamp across the room, busting its bulb and shattering its ceramic neck to pieces.

*******************Claire

Hurrying down the dirt path, Claire searched frantically for anyone she could find. She needed to communicate to the villagers that they were in danger although how she was going to do it would pose as a real problem. Claire was determined however, and she was elated when she spotted the boy and his mother. Their smiles faded when they saw the expression on the auburn haired girl's face as she ran towards them.

"I have to get you and the rest of the villagers somewhere safe," she said urgently when she reached them. The mother and son simply looked at each other, confusion painted across their faces, much the same as before when she and Wesker had been arguing. Desperate, Claire reached for the boys hand to drag them along with her, but when she grabbed for him, the boy's mother quickly pulled him behind her like a protective momma bear, and said something with a harsh tone in her foreign tongue. Claire understood their trepidation as well as their confusion. Stepping back she rethought her approach to these people. _How can I make them understand_, she racked her brain, hoping for an answer.

"You're in _danger_," she articulated slowly. "Come with me," she drawled as she walked her fingers across the air and motioned for them to come with her. Claire thought she saw a sliver of understanding pass across their faces. However it was miniscule, and soon the woman was making shooing motions, waving Claire away with her hand, fussing incoherently at the crazy girl. A tall, slender man witnessed this scene take place. Uneasy by the way the pretty young American girl and the mother were interacting, as his duty as chief, he decided to step in. Claire saw the man advancing towards them and prayed that she could make him understand that B.O.W.'s were closing in on the village; anticipating ripping into each and every one of their flesh. Their deaths were inevitable if she didn't relocate them somewhere safe. Determined to save their lives, Claire attempted to relay the same to him only to received similar results; confusion, fear and intolerance.

Their demise was unavoidable in her mind's eye. Her vision of their deaths speed her heartbeat up so fast that she felt as if it might jump right out of her chest. The stubborn Redfield determination took over and she resolved that she would save these people no matter what. Even if she had to knock each and every one of them out and drag them out of harm's way.

Wesker, not concerned with haste, arrived moments earlier to observe as the scene unfolded before him. Claire Redfield's agitation increased as the village chief spoke and used his hand motions aggressively towards her, causing her cheeks to flush a light pink, eventually glowing a crimson red. Wesker knew she was unaware that the man waving his arms about wildly was the village chief. Her hotheadedness would certainly get her in trouble if he let this continue. Wesker wasn't concerned for the villagers safety, Claire on the other hand was a different story. The only reason he decided to lay aside his own wellbeing was because of her. Not because he felt an obligation towards Miss Redfield, but because it would only benefit him in the long run. The more he cooperated and helped her, the more she would be willing to collaborate and comply with him. The last thing Wesker needed was more rigidity between them. He aimed to gain her favor, quarrels were counterproductive to his machination. Amused, Wesker allowed the altercation to carry on a little longer before he interceded, concerned (knowing how Redfield's behaved) that Claire was about to do something senseless.

The eloquent approach Wesker took as he enunciated what Claire failed to convey to the villagers had a far different result. Although Wesker's interpretation of their language wasn't perfect, it certainly got the message across. With ironic timing, the infected's calls echoed through the trees and the little boy clutched at his mother's skirts in fear. By this point, a few more villagers who had heard the commotion gathered around to listen to the tall blond man warn the chief of the strange beasts headed their way. Once the crow had grown, seeing that there was no more room for foolish disputes, Wesker let the tall slender chief take over, and turned to Claire who stared daggers through his head. She wanted to stab him.

"I didn't need your help," she said, just to spite him. Claire was actually grateful, whether she wanted to stab him or not.

"Because you were doing so well on your own," Wesker purred.

"Whatever," Claire mumbled, folded her arms across her chest, focusing her attention on the villagers that gathered around them. She wanted to focus on anything except for him. His mere presence made her blood boil. He could speak to the villagers the entire time without bothering to mention this to Claire. She was irate

"It's imperative," he said, stepping in front of her, "that they get to the river." Claire arched her eyebrow. "Because," Wesker continued, "Dr. Obilade's virus inadvertently reversed evolution in a primal way. Ape DNA bonded with the virus which passed certain affects onto its hosts, as we saw in our escape from the camp." He saw she still wasn't understanding his point and finally he said, "Apes can't swim, they drown." Claire refrained from physically smacking herself in the forehead, had her mind not been clouded by her hatred for him, she would have caught on sooner. She knew the fact. Claire shoved past Wesker, brushing up against his rock solid shoulder.

"I'm going—"

"You'll be accompanying them," he cut her off.

"Excuse me?" Claire objected, turning on him. "If you think I'm leaving the lives of these people, the life of that little boy," she gestured at the boy she'd given her watch to, "in your hands, you're mistaken." Going to find a weapon was her intention, and after she found that weapon, she was going to use it to protect the innocent people that had now gathered in mass.

"You're too valuable, Miss Redfield. If it weren't for your insatiable need to extricate these ignoble people, our stay her would have ended."

"You're a mons—"

"Furthermore," he cut her off. _Again!_ "How do you plan to fight with a lame wrist and no weapon?"

"I can hold my own," she argued, annoyed at his callous attitude. "Besides," she continued as she spotted a spade leaning against a mud hut and went to retrieve it. "I have a weapon." Claire wasn't okay with him referring to her as _valuable_, it only reestablished her assumptions that Wesker was planning to use her. Turning the spade in her hands, Claire thought she would be damned to let him start ordering her around now. The less authority he held over her the better.

Wesker saw Claire's determination, and decided against trying to conquer her Redfield stubbornness at the time. Wesker knew how persistent her brother was, and from the looks of it she shared her brother's irritating tenacity. Her lack of trust in him remained strong, and he couldn't blame her, despite his previous attempts at gaining any bit of it by saving her life. So he relented and allowed Claire to come along with him, they were only wasting time arguing about it.

When the villagers dispersed, venturing towards the Pangani River, Claire and Wesker went in the opposite direction, preparing themselves for the monsters behind the ever approaching bestial sounds of the B.O.W.'s. They made their way near the edge of the forest. Both of them waited and listened, Claire gripped the spade handle tightly, anticipating the encounter. She had been trained how to fight—_more like barroom brawl_—by her brother over the years. Without a gun, Claire hoped some of that training would come in handy.

"I would say we find higher ground, but I don't think that matters with these guys, "Why was she making small talk with him? She didn't really know but guessed it was probably because of her nervousness. She looked over at Wesker, ever the stoic, who merely grunted and made his stance out in the open, completely weaponless.

Wesker intended to take the bioorganic weapons head on. Progenitor continued to elude him; testing his capabilities meant testing for traces of his special Prototype virus. If the virus still existed, surely it would make an appearance during combat. The superhuman tediously racked his brain for the answer to Progenitor's disappearance. Meditation became the dominant task of his day; especially when Claire had been battling with Obilade's virus. Wesker hoped to recall what happened to him before he woke up in the TerraSave camp. To his distress, most things remained cloudy. Wesker knew one certainty; that combat brought out the best in Progenitor.

"Someone who is truly skilled doesn't require such advantages against his foe," he was at least pleased to see that the girl wasn't on edge. Her composure was admirable.

"Yeah, whatever," Claire rolled her eyes and took her place behind a hut with her spade. "And what you said earlier, about these people. How can you be so indifferent to the lives of the innocent?"

She saw his scowl from her hiding place behind the hut, "How long is this disrespect for me going to endure, Miss Redfield? My tolerance for your behavior won't last," he warned.

"As long as you believe that those people are less valuable than we are," she glowered back at him.

Wesker snickered, a smile played at the corner of his lips as if to say she was a naive fool, "denial is a counterproductive habit." Claire wanted to shout back a witty retort but as soon as Wesker was finished, the first infected showed its ugly face through the trees. It came out of the forest, slashing its clawed hands through the air, blood oozing from its face, caked and dried, matting its fur to its face. As soon as it reached the clearing it spotted Wesker and raced towards him in a blind rage with the intention to slaughter. Claire watched wide eyed, part of her hoping that it took Wesker down while another part couldn't help but anticipate for what Wesker might do to the B.O.W.

"It's individuals like us, Claire, not them," he said as he easily dodged out of the way of the monster's first blow. _Not as quick as he used to be, _Claire observed, _but still fast_. "That were made to thrive in this world and rightfully so." The beast doubled and scratched at the tyrant again, missing his face by an inch. Wesker made a quick move, so fast that one would have to pay close attention to see it, making short work of the assailant, and snapped the monsters neck in two. It fell to the earth with a _thud_, dirty flying up in swirls around its shaggy body. Claire was mesmerized by how composed he was being in such close proximity to such a terrifying foe. But she wished he would shut up.

"Their place on this planet is trivial. Their lives will never amount to anything," he said as he wiped the coagulated blood smeared on his hands—from the dead infected's head— and onto his scrubs. "They're completely dispensable, unlike you and me."

"You can't be serious," said Claire, appalled by his unbelievable effrontery.

Claire jerked her head in the direction of the forest as a screech sounded from the jungle. Shortly, a second and third raging monster in scrubs appeared at its edge. One was traveling from the tree tops, the other trekked on foot. As soon as they spotted Wesker they bolted in his direction, the one in the tree leaping out of it nimbly. Both came thrashing at him, their clothes ragged and ripped from getting caught on briars and other miscellaneous things of the forest. Claire could see that the hair spread to the rest of their bodies through the rips in their clothes. For a moment, Claire thought there was no way the man could evade them both. Yet, Wesker dodged the other two assailants again just has he had the other and brought his elbow down on the back of one's neck. While the other, less maimed but no less confused, resumed its attempted assault on him.

Claire readied herself as the one that had been knocked to the ground noticed her. It scrambled to its feet and ran towards her with its signature thrash. _Okay, just another B.O.W._, she thought as she raised the spade preparing herself for the moment it collided with the monster's head. However when it reached her, her judgment was off, and instead of hitting it in the head, she hit it in the shoulder, only knocking it back a few paces. Angered, the hair covered remnants of what used to be a human being lunged at Claire. It knocked her back, pinning her against the house and between the long handle of the spade that served as both a barrier against its attacks and as a hindrance. She was stuck. Too much weight placed on her damaged wrist would cause more problems in the long run. But she felt that using all of her strength would be her only chance of survival. It chomped at her face, its breath putrid, and for the first time she saw the newly sprouted fangs—elongated canines— in the maw of its mouth.

"You see," he said in broken sentences from her left side as he struggled against his foe, holding it off with his forearm pressed against its neck." I envision a Utopian society. Such a society isn't attainable when weak links remain." He grunted, pushing his foe back again, "They must be weeded out. It's no different than Darwin's survival of the fittest." That's when Wesker spotted the sunglasses in the infected's left breast pocket. He had also realized by that point that Claire was in a struggle herself. Her fractured wrist put her at a disadvantage and as soon as he took care of his own problem he would assist her.

Being thorough not to damage the glasses in the front pocket, Wesker grabbed the old nurse's hairy wrist, pulled it towards him, and in a quick move snapped its neck like a twig. He let the creature fall to the earth and strode menacingly to the struggling girl. Wesker pulled the beast off of her with such force that it drug her with it, causing her to lose her balance and fall to the ground. He slammed its head against the mud hut. The struggle was disquieting as he dug its face into the side of the house; arms flailing, muffled screeches emitting from its dirt clogged mouth. Claire could see pieces of dried mud falling away and she could hear the sticks in the frame cracking and crunching like breaking bones. Wesker was unrelenting, only ceasing pounding its head into the hut until he was satisfied it was dead. When he had finished Claire's stomach churned at the sight of the concaved bloody mess that used to be the face of a man.

Wesker grimaced as he smeared the grime from his hands off on his scrubs once more. Using his hands wasn't ideal, he didn't care for the mess, but it got the job done. A pale, wrinkled face of an old man with a hand thrust through his dying chest crept into Wesker's memory. _Spencer…_that was right, Wesker had killed the old man. Then he didn't mind using his hands; then he actually savored it. _Old fool…_Wesker listened to the silence. Even the birds seemed to cease their incessant chirping from witnessing such brutality. There were no more. He turned, remembering the girl on the ground, extending his hand towards her.

"You know what's sad, Wesker?" She asked, looking up at him. "That the whole world will look upon you and your history one day and know that you had never been anything, but cruel." She knocked his extended hand away from her and got up and walked away towards the river.

For a brief moment those words seemed to sting. Had he, Albert Wesker, the egotistical, self-righteous, megalomaniac felt a tinge of gilt brought on by the words of a naive girl? Unbeknownst to him, what an observer would have noticed had they been looking, appeared a red glint contrasting his blue eyes that was just as quickly gone as it had come. Wesker shook off the feeling, and remembering the sunglasses, went to retrieve them. He bent down and pulled the sunglasses out of the deceased man's shirt pocked, sliding them on his own face feeling relief. His eyes had always been sensitive to light.

****************Later Claire

It was decided silently between the both of them that they would spend at least another night in the village before following through with Wesker's plan. It was late and Claire sat alone on her cot in the dark, quiet hut, unable to sleep. While Wesker sat outside the arch way, reading out of Dr. Obilade's journal. A word hadn't passed between the two since the earlier encounter with Claire's old camp mates. The only other time they came into contact was when Wesker brought her another batch of the bitter medicine, which she took reluctantly. Claire couldn't complain because the more she spoke to him the more stressed and hostile she became. Not to mention that her tolerance for him was just as thin as his was for her. Yet, something was eating at her. Claire couldn't help but feel some regret for what she said to Wesker earlier in response to his ramblings of a utopian society. Despite the fact that what she said about his character was true, she was not a cruel person, even if he was. He had offered her a kind gesture and she had shot him down. She guessed that this was also the reason behind their lack of communication. Her retort had bothered him as well.

_What do you care, Claire? He's done far worse to you. _Which was true, but Claire was only human, and certainly not a sociopath. But was making things better between her and Wesker worth it? She was certain that if things remained the same that hostility between them would only grow, which would probably result in one of them getting hurt. _Or getting killed._ _And that would probably be me before it would be him_, she recalled how Wesker smashed the B.O.W's face into the hut.

Claire sighed and strummed a fruit from the basket that the villagers had gathered for them for their heroics earlier. They had also had some sort of celebration while burning the deceased bodies of the infected. Wesker was not present for this and Claire went to the hut soon after. Despite their feat, fear had grown substantially among the villagers towards Wesker. How he had known their language was odd, and how he had exterminated the beasts was even more bizarre. The villagers couldn't understand how any man could do those things without being more than human, and Claire couldn't blame them. This antipathy towards him was the deciding factor in determining that their stay was over.

However, Claire was unaware of all of this. Instead she kept playing what she had said to Wesker over and over again in her mind like a broken record. She brushed her finger across the scratch on her leg-it stung slightly-and her eyes fell upon the empty mixing bowl that she drank the virus suppressant herbs from. Guilt flooded her emotions. He had saved her life more than once, but hadn't she done the same for him? _Yeah, except you're constantly hoping and routing for his death, _and was this shame she now felt? _You shouldn't be feeling this way_, she told herself. But she was.

The fact that it was eating at her this badly led her to the conclusion that she had to do something about it in order to feel better, even if what Wesker said was morally and ethically wrong. As much as it pained her to make amends with the tyrant, she had to do it for her peace of mind. _Yeah. But then what are you going to do when you send your brother to kill him? Tell him you're sorry, _sensible Claire pointed out. Being enemies was one thing, but even enemies can be civil. Claire studied the fruit in her hand before plucking up another one from the basket, throwing her legs over the side of her cot and making her way outside to ameliorate the tension between them. But also to ease her own conscience.

He sat outside of the mud hut stooped over the water stained journal in deep concentration as if he were studying it rather than just reading. The ink from the pages had run blue streams and blotches in every direction, making the writing almost illegible. He had seen her come out from the hut, expecting her to pass by without as much as a glance in his direction. Claire cleared her throat and broke his concentration.

"Thank you," she said, holding the fruit out to him. Wesker eyed the fruit curiously and took it. Claire sat down beside him on the opposite side of the archway. "Thank you for helping me earlier."

"Which time are you referring?" he asked bluntly, turning his attention back to the journal.

Claire's cheeks burned a light pink, and she was thankful for the darkness. "Look, it took a lot for me to come out here and say that," she admitted. Wesker closed the journal and sat it down beside him. If this was her apology, he would mark the day.

"What's the matter, dear heart? Can't sleep?"

Claire's stomach flip flopped again; that pet name really bothered her. "Why do you call me that?" She had had to ask.

"Because," he examined the foreign fruit she had given him, "it describes who you are perfectly." Claire wanted to press further. Wesker had peaked her interest. But the fear of what he might say about her character suppressed that desire. Dear heart was probably a derogatory term of endearment that he used for her because it somehow defined how she was a naïve girl and he her supreme, all-knowing superior. Besides, she wanted to make this encounter as short and sweet as possible.

He continued to examine the fruit, its yellow skin dulled in the darkness of the night. Claire recalled that she hadn't seen him eat once. She guessed that he had to have eaten and she just hadn't been around for it. _Surely he eats_, she couldn't see how not. Even if Wesker was a superhuman, everything has to consume in some way. Claire wanted to smack herself as she envisioned Wesker, mutated into a human-plant hybrid as a result of injecting himself with so many viruses, his arms giant leaves, gobbling up the sun for energy. _You're being childish_. Even so, after all she'd seen, a human-plant hybrid Wesker wasn't that farfetched. The corners of Claire's lips curved upward as she thought about such a ridiculous scenario, when Wesker almost made her jump out of her skin when he spoke.

"Get some rest, dear heart. Our mission begins at daybreak."

"What about you?" Did Wesker not sleep either? He still hadn't tasted the fruit. Wesker didn't look tired. Despite his stubble and his usual perfectly groomed hair being slightly out of place, he looked healthy and well rested. The sunglasses Wesker had gifted himself with sat, with its arms neatly folded, next to him. With how utterly dark it was in this wilderness, he had no need for them at night time. He had to give credit to Claire for voluntarily thanking, but essentially apologizing, to him. But tomorrow was a more suitable time to discuss anything the girl felt like bringing up. Wesker deemed it essential for her to get rest, especially since the virus was still in confrontation with her body

"I'm the sentinel. Ever vigilant of the kingdom," he finally said, biting into the flesh of the fruit. _So he does eat, _Claire could only imagine what he meant by _kingdom_; she was sure it was metaphorical. But when Wesker spoke, he usually said something profound. Claire rose from the earth and ventured inside to her cot once more. Crawling into "bed" she found sleep almost immediately, drifting away to whatever may come at daybreak. She hoped it would be her escape.

**Well here you are! Prepare for the next chapter to be dedicated to Claire and Wesker only! Things were so much easier when Wesker didn't have his memory. Poor Claire. Working together is the only way she is going to get through this…Thank you all for reading! And review! It helps. **


	16. Chapter 16: Let's Ride

Chapter 16: Let's Ride

***************Claire

_Claire bolted up the metal stairs, escaping the hoard that moaned behind her. Rodrigo had been near death when she arrived to bring him the hemostatic medicine she had found. She raced past the Bandersnatch awaiting her before the stairs, its yellow flesh pulsing, missing her head by a few inches as she mounted the first step, probably avoiding being thrown over a cliff. She hoped that what she did to help the man who had freed her from her cell was enough so that he could somehow find his way off the island. _Which is my next move_, she thought as she pushed the gate open. Except when she got to the other side with the gate sealed shut behind her, Claire wasn't where she should have been. Instead of the being on the stone pathway in front of the mansion where Claire had first met Alfred, she was at the other mansion, and Chris was there. She began to run towards her brother, whose face lit up when he saw her. Yet she wasn't getting anywhere, her body felt like it got heavier with each step as if her struggles were in slow motion. _

_ Chris's face contorted into pain, and he looked back at her as he was engulfed in flames. Claire stared at her brother's burning body, wide eyed. He fell to the floor, charred into a black figure that was once human. Claire tried to scream for him but no noise came out and she readied her gun as she saw the mutated Alexia, fire in her grasp, advancing toward her. The transformed monster came closer but when Claire pulled the trigger there was an empty _click_. She prepared herself for the same fate as her brother as Alexia flung her killer flames in her direction. Fire spread over her clothing, then singeing her hair until it finally began to melt away her flesh…_

Claire jerked awake, sweat pouring from her pores, in extreme pain. Sitting up on her cot she immediately doubled over from a burning sensation that shot through her entire body. Her temperature was so high she felt as if her blood was on fire; and maybe it was. Claire didn't know what to do, she had never felt this kind of affliction to the point of being in misery before. Her only guess was that the virus was acting up inside of her. Earlier that day, or yesterday—she wasn't sure what time it was—Claire had been fine, but that didn't mean that the virus was gone altogether; she still needed treatment, as Wesker had told her. The fever intensified and a moan escaped from her lips. _You need to call for him_, said Sensible Claire_. No!_ She mentally yelled back. But Claire knew she was just being stubborn, just as she knew she was in serious pain and trouble. So she relented.

"Wesker!" She called in a weak voice through gritted teeth.

***************Wesker

This was his third time reading through Dr. Obilade's journal. Wesker wanted to make sure that he didn't miss anything important—which was a rarity. Hours had passed since the girl retired into the hut to sleep. Wesker judged that first sight of daylight would be peeking over the horizon in a couple turns of the clock. When it did the two of them would be on their way to the docks, and by the end of this journey Wesker believed he would obtain a place back on the market for bioweaponry. He needed funds to uncover the outside agitators that, according to Obilade's journal, had emerged after Wesker short stint of being dead. Although Wesker knew of one prominent rumored entity that Ada Wong worked for he speculated that since he and TRICELL, however cloudy that memory was, were out of the picture that others had conspired. Redfield's blood would not only put him back on the market, but it would also allow him to investigate potential buyers who may be connected with such agitators.

Wesker had read past the part where Obilade and his partner Tommy ventured back to their lab setup with Curious Georgia, the ape who survived this new strain of Ebola and had become increasingly more violent. The crazed doctor wrote of murdering his partner out of both fear that Tommy would go to the authorities because of ethical reasons concerning the testing being done on CG and other apes, as well as out of greed for monetary rewards from the Organization that he didn't feel like sharing. This _Organization_ Obilade mentioned and what they gifted to him is what continually gained Wesker's interest. He read over it again…

_This peculiar strain of the Ebola virus appears to have made CG more violent, but at the same time, stronger, faster, and as further testing has proven, immune to other pathogens. If I'm not mistaken CG has also grown exponentially from when we first encountered her. As I guessed, this virus has landed me in the position of a lot of money…The other day I was contacted by a buyer who claimed he worked for a secret entity that only goes by the alias the Organization. Later the buyer claimed that the Organization no longer wanted to buy just CG's Ebola virus but that they wanted me to create a new strain using her blood and a sample of something they would send to me. I would be making more money than originally expected, and with Tommy gone, I would get both shares. _

_ I received the sample two days ago along with files on the virus, and they sent me a backup vial in case something happened to the first. They both read _**G-Virus Sherry Birkin**. _After reading the files, I was astounded that this Organization would send me something so risky, not knowing much about me but trusting me completely. I surmised that they would only give such a virus to a complete stranger because it was faulty, and because I'm being watched…nonetheless, if I were able to create a new strain combining G with mine, the Organization could somehow put the faulty virus to better use…_

Could this _"organization" _be the same one that Ada Wong worked for? Wesker guessed that to be true seeing as how they had their hands on a sample of G. Birkin's daughter should learn to be more careful. After being removed from his care, Wesker wasn't sure exactly what kinds of things the government was doing to Sherry Birkin. There was no doubt in his mind that the U.S. government was selling the virus that only existed in her blood.

Wesker turned his attention back to the journal, flipping to the pages where Obilade explained how he made his special strain, and Wesker studied the formula Obilade had jotted down. Wesker guessed that the mole inside the camp escaped with the virus before all hell broke loose. His plan was to either sell the virus he got from Redfield's blood to create a competitor to the fabled Organization or to actually scare the very same people into buying his strain. Wesker also had more to offer; the virus had worked correctly on Claire, unlike on all the others, and she would eventually be completely immune or resistant. _She_ was the key to his eventual success—

"Wesker!" He heard Claire call in a weak, panicked voice. He rose from the ground, leaving the journal behind, and entered the hut. Claire was doubled over, covered in sweat, hair plastered to her face and neck, breathing heavily. Wesker went to prepare another batch of the bitter virus suppressant, curious over Claire's early affliction. He had given her a dose before bed, and yet her symptoms were worse now than they had been in days. It was imperative that they reach a lab setting with sufficient equipment to treat her before it was too late. If anything, the virus needed time to incubate.

"Drink," he said, handing the fresh brew to her. She reached for it but drew her hand back as another wave of heat and pain shot through her; the malady was too intense. Wesker gently brought the cup up to her lips, tilting it slightly so she could drink from it. The familiar foul taste made her grimace, but she drank it all, yearning for the pain to subside of which she knew the relief would come. And it did slowly wane. Wesker placed his warm hand on her forehead, cool compared to the heat emitting from her skin. If this fever didn't dwindle, they wouldn't be going anywhere that day.

Claire laid back against the damp, yet cool cot to get away from his touch but also from fatigue. "Please tell me you know how to fix this."

"I know how to fix this," he reassured her, pitying her. And that was ultimately what she was looking for, but it somehow sounded odd coming from him. _Then again. His ego is too big for him to say he didn't. _"Do try and sleep this off. Daylight is in approximately two hours." With that he went back outside to muse over Claire's condition and the journal that lay at his feet.

***************Claire

Claire wanted to fight him because of his lack of sympathy, but that little spell had taken a lot out of her. Besides, asking someone like Wesker for sympathy was a fool's errand. And she decided that she would _try _to sleep because the sooner they left, the sooner she could escape. If Claire failed, at least Wesker did claim to know how to cure the virus. The real question was, would he go by his word and cure her? She turned over on her side with a sigh and, although normally waking up in the middle of the night resulted in staying up through the next day for Claire, she fell back asleep.

She awoke later when first signs of morning light from a crack in the mud wall snuck in to meet her eyelids. Something rattled on the other side of the hut and Claire saw it was Wesker through half open lids, mixing more of the suppressant. Thinking of the bitter taste made her stomach churn.

Claire got to her feet, annoyed at still being in the clothes she had been in over a week ago when she decided to go for a run, remembering her slide on the rocks that resulted in her broken wrist. Looking down at it, she silently scolded herself for being so clumsy. Her wrist was wrapped and it didn't hurt anymore, so she guessed it would be in full use soon.

"Good, you're awake," said Wesker with his back still turned. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," terse, but true. She knew Wesker hadn't asked out of concern for her wellbeing, but rather in an informative way, probably to determine how soon they could leave. Claire grabbed her sneakers, thankful that the sock stuffed inside of them had been cleaned the day before. She fixed her hair in her signature ponytail.

"Then we leave as soon as I'm finished here," something clanked together from within the pack he picked up from the ground.

"What about food and water?" She didn't want to be stuck out in the wilderness without them.

"It's in the pack," he handed her another dose of the herbal drink, "along with four full bottles of this." When he faced her, Wesker had somehow produced a new pair of dark sunglasses. Claire didn't know whether to laugh or be slightly disturbed by the familiar wardrobe essential of Albert Wesker. Finding it more humorous as she took a drink of the herb mixture, Claire choked a little trying to stifle a snort. If Wesker noticed he didn't make any indication.

No sooner had Claire slid on her shoes than they were out of the hut heading towards the yellow Pangani River. The day was barely started in Tanzania. It was that curious time of morning that, for those who accidentally fell asleep in the afternoon and woke up later when the sun was descending, might think they had overslept and were waking up to a new day. Twilight tended to have that sort of disorienting effect on people who were unable to tell if the sun was rising or falling. But Claire knew that beyond the horizon was the start of a new journey and that soon the hot sun would beam down on them, their only protection coming from the swaying trees overhead.

As the unlikely pair treaded beside Pangani's banks, Claire looked back at the village in remorse. She wanted to say goodbye to the boy she'd given her watch to, but she regretted even more not being able to stay and make sure the villagers were safe. At the moment the calls were being made by the domineering tall blond with a pack full of essentials on his back, who Claire herself had become uncomfortably dependent on. Had Claire refused to go along with Wesker today, she was certain he would have forced her to do so anyway. She imagined herself being knocked out and tossed over Wesker's shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and decided she preferred being conscious and going along with him rather than being knocked out and forced.

No matter how hard she tried to kid herself, Claire knew that she and Wesker alone couldn't contain the virus that had probably spread exponentially since the first night back at the camp. Wesker may have been able to fight off a few of those particular infect, but a hoard of those things would overwhelm the both of them without a weapon. Her worry grew as the idea of more than just Obilade's virus seemed to be present in Tanzania. The colossal hyena that attacked her and some of the patients at the TerraSave camp proved that the BSAA had missed some of the epidemic. Plagas and Uroboros were another threat to the area which had already endured so much. Claire sighed and turned her gaze away from the disappearing village whose uncertain fate she couldn't control in such circumstances.

The forest sang with life so vociferous that Claire was surprised she was able to sleep at all the previous night. But amidst she and Wesker there was silence; their uncommunicativeness a result of the tension always present between them. They went along like that, their only interactions coming from when Wesker, out of whatever gentleman qualities he had left, Claire thought, held back branches for Claire to pass, rather than letting them fly back and whack her in the face, no matter how badly the urge struck him to let at least one slip from his grip merely out of spite.

Wesker was the enemy, as he always had been since the whole thing started. Just as Chris, and anyone on Chris' side was Wesker's enemy. Claire knew the feud between her brother and the man she was currently traveling with better than anyone, except maybe Jill Valentine. Yet, odd circumstances had thrown the two together in such a way that almost seemed like fraternizing. In an odd way, both felt as if they owed the other. She had naively aided in saving Wesker's life out of some undeniable desire to help suffering people, and in return Wesker promised to eradicate the virus from her body. Claire hoped that if she couldn't escape him, that after he cured her he would let her go.

He was the enemy, yes, and his one-sided goals highly questionable. But Claire Redfield was beginning to wonder whether or not Wesker was this evil monster she and everyone else had made him out to be. Despite having said questionable goals, Wesker still had rather strong redeeming qualities. Wesker was, with no doubt, intelligent, articulate, strong, well mannered, dexterous, and even though Claire hated to admit, to even consider it, handsome; a quality no bad guy should be allowed. A nightmare disguised as a daydream. Claire shifted her eyes to her feet, embarrassed by her own thoughts.

Lack of ethics was Wesker's downfall. Whether he had done ethical harm to people directly or indirectly didn't change the fact that he had hurt people, people who were dear to Claire. Not to mention Claire had her fair share of being manhandled by him. Despite these other qualities, she decided that Wesker _was _the bad guy, and that she, Chris, Jill and Leon were the good guys. Destined to fight Wesker, and others like him for the rest of their lives.

They continued going like that for a while; Claire mulling over Wesker's credibility in her head, while he thought of the steps that needed to be taken in order to get to their destination in Europe. The couple moved away from the river's edge after Wesker advised that walking so close was dangerous. Claire obliged and they continued onward until she finally had to stop from hunger and exhaustion.

"Can we please stop?" Claire broke the silence, "We've been going for hours without food. I need fuel." Claire slumped down on a thick log, wiping the sweat from her brow, and resting her legs which stung from her own salty fluids seeping into the new cuts and scrapes given to her by countless thorns, briars and sticks. She was fit _and _she was the one who had slept the night before. Yet, Wesker, affected by neither exhaustion, hunger, nor the heat, showed no signs of tiring. She was convinced the man could have made the entire trip without so much as stopping to take a breather. Wesker turned to look back at the girl through dark shades, whose skin glistened from perspiration and whose cheeks shone a light pink from both the sun and the trek.

"That's fine, Redfield." It was understandable, but no less of a nuisance. She was sick and he was more than human. Wesker removed the pack from his back and pulled out a bottle of the bitter herbs along with some fruit for both of them. Although he appeared unaffected, Wesker was famished, and he had a bigger appetite than Claire knew. Because of his extremely fast metabolism, food, and a lot of it, was a guilty pleasure and need of his. But until more food was available, rationing was the only option.

"Drink some, not all," said Wesker, handing her a bottle and some fruit.

"Thank you." Claire gulped at the drink, which was bitter, but refreshing. Wesker took a seat next to Claire on the fallen tree trunk—Claire surprised to actually see a sheen on his forehead as well—maybe all that black was finally getting to him—and took a swig from a jug of clear water before offering it to her. Claire eyed the jug, unwilling to put her mouth somewhere his had already been.

"There wasn't much water in that village clean enough for drinking," he said, a little frustrated by her perverseness. "Most of what I could gather went into making your suppressant. This is what's left until we reach town."

"Alright," Claire said, taking the jug reluctantly, "as long as I don't get any weird cooties that turn me into a fire spitting, three eyed plant." She said in good humor.

"That would be interesting, but my strains aren't communicable. At least not through conventional means." Was he joking back with her? Claire was slightly thrown off. "Besides, we've already swapped enough spit to shrink even your brother's biceps back down to normal size when I revived you on the river."

"That's not funny," Claire's cheeks burned a bright pink from every aspect of what he said.

"No?" Wesker purred, giving a sly sideways look at Claire, one corner of his mouth turned up in a devilish smirk.

"No," she repeated, taking a quick drink from the jug and without meeting his eye, handed it back. Her embarrassment was apparently amusing to him because Wesker chuckled before reverting back to his stoic self. _Swapping spit_ was too synonymous with _making out_ and Claire certainly didn't appreciate the image Wesker had caused her imaginative mind to conjure up. It made her feel nauseated. So she tried to force it out by focusing on the fruit as its juicy flesh saturated her tongue. The sensation was ruined by the image of her brother's arms shriveling up like he was the next victim of Cell from that anime he always used to watch. _And who knew he had a sense of humor? _Claire glared at the back of Wesker's head while he stuffed the items into the pack, clanking something other than bottles and a journal around, _or am I imagining it,_ and slung it over his shoulder. She really detested him.

The break was short-lived and before Claire knew it they were back to their original routine of follow-the-leader-in-complete-silence. Wesker wanted to make as much distance as they could, anticipating that before nightfall they would happen upon more Tanzanians who would take them in for the night and perhaps give them a means of transportation. And for Claire, sleeping in the wilderness without light, up in the trees was more terrifying to her than a t-virus outbreak. Which brought another issue to her attention; how was she supposed to escape if Wesker never slept? But he had slept back at the camp. She recalled deviously dragging her chair and knocking over the water canteen with **TerraSave **boldly printed on it.

"How are you still going without any sleep?" They had trekked probably about five more miles in the heat and brush since their last pit stop.

"There are more pressing matters." He said. And that was their longest conversation until finally forest turned to less dense terrain and the trees began to spread further and further apart. It was approximately midday by the time they reached the less densely populated forest and fell upon an old stretch of railroad tracks that intersected with the river. They climbed up a slight hill that elevated the tracks above the water and decided to walk along the wooden rows and thick iron railing that lay directly beside the Pangani River; feeling it was safer than the alternative considering what could be lurking beneath the water's surface.

"We're now in Tanga," Wesker said as they walked down the track. "Its coast borders the Indian Ocean."

Claire stared down into the murky water. Her mind's eye ventured to a place back in Raccoon City. The sewers there provided a breeding ground for many terrible creatures affected by the virus, including an overgrown alligator. She hoped nothing like that lurked beneath the surface of the glistening yellow current. Her head began to spin. "How far until we reach the docks?" Hopeful it wasn't too much further.

"It's hard to determine. But if luck is on our side, a locomotive will come our way." Claire certainly wished that would happen. She started to feel the effects of the virus once again as she stepped on each wooden plank, avoiding the gaps. Her wrist and the cut on her leg pulsed; her breathing unsteady. This time Wesker caught it before she could work herself into another spout of sickness. They stopped again and he fished the bottle already drank from out of the bag, practically forcing her to consume its contents completely.

When she was finished, Claire lay her ear against the railing while Wesker waited for the spell to pass. She remembered a game she and Chris used to play just to amuse themselves as kids; put your ear on the track and see who can hear the train coming first. Along with their fun, but illegal tendency to place coins on the rail for a train to flatten into ovals. A collection of these flattened coins still rested in a jar in her room.

The track was warm and smelled of oils. She listened, at first not sure if the deep, droning sounds she heard were her muscles contracting, like they did when you pressed your hands tight against your ears, or the sound of an approaching line of rail cars in the distance. The familiar sound grew louder and Claire felt a jolt of excitement course through her.

"There's a train coming this way," Claire jumped to her feet, excited by the only sign of good luck she'd had since landing in the country. A short time passed until the deep rumble of the train reached his ears. Claire was right, soon a line of cargo cars belonging to the Tanzania Railways Corporation would arrive, providing them with faster travel to Tanga's coast.

"When it gets here, you know what to do?"

"Yep."

"Old style steam locomotives don't move very fast. We'll have our chance."

"I know. Chris and I…" she noticed him tense at the mention of her brother, unlike earlier when Chris was the subject of ridicule. "…we used to spend a lot of time around places like this." She finished timidly.

Ignoring her, Wesker strode in the direction of the steam engine. _I didn't expect much of a response anyway, _Claire sighed and went in the same direction. Hating Chris was probably an understatement. If anyone were to ask Albert Wesker how he felt about Chris Redfield he would confidently express that he despised or loathed the man. And Claire didn't need to ask, she'd heard it before and she was also fairly confident that her brother felt the same way about the man in front of her. But she wasn't so sure how much Wesker remembered about his last encounter with her brother where two unstoppable forces collided. If he did remember his death, Claire was sure Wesker would have lost control a long time ago. And forget even treating her with any kind of human decency. He'd as soon slap a mind control device on her chest as he would rip her heart out of the very same place.

Claire thought about the retorts she'd spat at him concerning her brother's superiority, and cringed. She decided it was probably best to go easy on that subject. Instigating Wesker was like jabbing an angry bull with a cattle prod. Both were short tempered and dangerous. _If anything, if it comes to it, you could egg him on until he put you out of your misery. _She smiled to herself. It shouldn't have been funny, but the idea of hitting the prideful despot where it hurt felt good.

A loud horn sounded over the flat plain, and Claire looked up to see white steam billowing from the top of the conductor car. The train was arriving in no time at all, at that moment appearing as a large blue mass with a yellow stripe going across the front of the car. As it got closer Claire read the number 6407 stamped inside the yellow stripe in red. The conductor blared the horn again, while Claire and Wesker stepped off the track and onto the side. Its approach causing Claire's adrenaline to pump as she readied herself to grab onto a rung or a connecting joint to hitch a long deserved ride like any old fashioned hobo.

The train's sheer weight caused a cantankerous shriek, clink and squeal from its joints until the first car finally rushed past them. The force of the colossal cargo train blew Claire's hair from her face and her eyes followed each passing car, searching for the right place, waiting for the right moment to grab on and hoist herself up like a man thrown overboard. When she saw the opportunity, Claire lunged for a rung on a rail car, while Wesker did the same on the car opposite hers, with only the joint dividing them. They both climbed onto the middle, still with plenty of other cars behind them.

"Woo! Now that's what I call hopping a train." She slid to her bottom. Wesker leaned against the container across from her, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Indeed. Our travel time will be cut in half." He gazed down at her in studious attention—or at least she thought he was, it was hard to tell behind the sunglasses—and she looked away after realizing she had been doing the same; that they'd been locked like that for a brief moment, long enough to make things uncomfortable. Claire wasn't sure why it unnerved her, but she believed both of them had just shared a moment of understanding. An instance where she saw him as more than just her enemy and where he saw her as more than just an object, or a piece of a puzzle. The human condition worked mysteriously. And they both resumed their usual feelings towards each other; hostility, superiority, tension.

"How are you feeling?"

"Better now that I'm out of that forest and on this train," she said, looking at her feet as if they were the most interesting thing in the world. Wesker turned his attention to the scenery.

"Then there are no signs of the fever?" He asked, not bothering to look in her direction.

"Yeah," she said. "Wesker, what have you found out about this virus from Dr. Obilade's journal?" She had been meaning to find out more but between her infection and fighting of Obilade's abominations left little chance. "I took a Virology course in college, but reading formulas still sometimes goes over my head. Thumbing through it, I saw a few." Wesker stood silent, "I was wondering if you could tell me more about it."

"That incompetent doctor was merely a tool in another man's game," he began. "As for the virus, you've seen it before back in Raccoon City."

"T couldn't have been responsible for what happened at the camp."

"Not T, Claire," he said. "Dr. Birkin's G-Virus is only one component responsible for these new mutations."

"The G-Virus," she mused, images of little Sherry Birkin flashing before her. "How did he come to possess such an insidious bioweapon?"

"It was offered to him by an entity that has escaped my knowledge for far too long. Being the fool that he was, Dr. Obilade accepted the virus, while the Organization played under the ruse that they would reward him for creating a new one. The U.S. government's failure to maintain Birkin's daughter played a role as well."

"I'm sure they're doing what they can."

"Please, Claire. Your government's just as twisted and involved with the black market and bioweapons as much as any other 'terrorist' would be."

"I think you're wrong about that. If anything it's moles like you corrupting people trying to combat this issue."

"Or moles like your boyfriend back at the TerraSave camp?" Claire glared holes through his skull. She wanted to defend herself and say how David hadn't been her boyfriend but she'd be wasting her breath. Claire knew he was only trying to make her angry.

"You said they were using him, as a tool. But why?"

"To create another diversion probably. That's how they've survived for so long while the rest of us have failed. The virus that's inside of you, which was derived from a new strain of Ebola and the G-Virus, could certainly be of use to them on the black market. However, they probably predicted that someone as pompous as Obilade would cause another outbreak that would serve as a distraction."

"I don't understand. It sounds like they wouldn't accomplish anything, but give themselves away instead."

"They're very good at covering their tracks." _But I will find them._

Claire sighed and leaned her head back against the cool steel of the train car. Closing her eyes she was haunted by the terrible monster that Sherry Birkin's father had mutated into during her and Leon's escape from Raccoon. "How are you going to cure me if the antivirus doesn't exist?"

"As you saw, the formulas are there. The rest," he raised his hand and tapped the side of his head, "Is in here." But Claire certainly didn't find that comforting. And suddenly she was tired again. Without realizing she was drifting off, listening to the drone of the train Claire fell asleep snug between two rail cars that she and the dreaded man she traveled with had hopped together. And while Wesker knew the exact answer to her question, he wasn't willing to admit that he was her cure just yet.

* * *

><p>Feeling a gentle nudge on her shoulder, Claire awoke from a dreamless sleep—of which she was thankful—to wake up to the same nightmare she'd escaped in her slumber.<p>

"What is it?"

"We have to get off."

"Get off?" She asked confused. Looking around, "but we're nowhere near a city yet!"

"And it won't be stopping anywhere near the border anytime soon."

"It won't be…so how are we supposed to get off if it's not going to stop?" But she already knew the answer and it took one look at Wesker's stoic countenance to make her moan into her knees.

"We have to go now," he grabbed her wrist, pulling her to her feet. Claire stumbled a bit, falling against, or rather _into _him. He steadied her with the hand he had wrapped around her arm.

"Sorry…" she said, gaining her balance and quickly moving away from him, avoiding eye contact. Wesker tossed the backpack over the edge. Claire grimaced at the rocky pit it _plopped _on that they were about to dive into.

"Actually, the jump would be easier like that."

"Um, okay."

"When we jump, it needs to be simultaneously," he said, looking down at her through dark shades. "You tuck into me and roll as we hit the ground. That way damage should be minimal."

Claire nodded in understanding. But when she stood beside him to take the jump, figuring out how to jump with him while also trying to find a way to make sure they touched as little as possible proved to be difficult, if not very awkward. Agitated with her diffident nature at the moment, Wesker finally took the initiative, grabbing Claire's waist with one arm, and forcing her close next to him.

"On three," he said. "One. Two," Claire's heart pounded against her chest, "Three," he said at last. They took a short run and jump and their feet left the solid surface of the train. Claire clinched her eyes shut. The jump went as explained, and Claire's head was guarded between his chest and arm shielding the back of it. They hit the ground with a thud, Claire surprised the impact wasn't worse, and rapidly rolled partway down the shallow ravine until they came to a complete stop. Wesker gave a grunt getting to his hands and knees, and Claire witnessed his pain through his furrowed brow and clinched eyes, combined with a couple of cuts on his forehead, when she opened her own. He had taken the impact and most of the tumble. She lay below him, so mesmerized by how quickly his skin regenerated itself. Just as she'd been enchanted by all the other monsters she'd encountered over the past few years, that when a drop of his blood splashed on her cheek she jumped and made a sound that mimicked a yelp.

"Ew," she said as she scurried out from underneath him, briskly wiping the droplet from her face, terrified of what kind of viruses might try to get into her body from the crimson liquid.

"I think she likes me," he said, getting to his feet and cracking his neck from side to side. Claire saw another scrape heal on his knuckles and it raised goose bumps on her arms.

"I'm sorry," she said, getting to her feet as well, "It's just that...you have viruses."

"It doesn't work like that," he said going to retrieve the backpack that had been dropped a little way off.

"Okay, you know the whole 'let's not egg him on' decision we made before we got on the train? Well you're doing a splendid job, Redfield ," she mumbled to herself as she climbed up the rocky ravine. When she reached the top, not far off there were a few houses. "Hey look," she called to Wesker, pointing in the direction of the mud homes. "There are houses over there."

They made their way to the mud homes that were bigger, but made out of the exact same material as the huts in the hidden village they left behind earlier that day. All except for the tin roofs that rest rusted, but solid, on top. Wesker hoped to find another means of transportation because it was getting later in the day; Claire hoped to find a phone, but doubted the possibility seeing no lines in sight. She kept racking her brain for a way to escape, and other than dashing away when he wasn't looking, she was coming up empty. When they reached the first home, Claire hesitantly rapped her knuckles on the door. The place looked utterly disserted, and Claire was beginning to think it was until a man with the look of suspicion stamped on his face and callused hands answered the door.

"Hello," they hadn't really thought this through. "I'm Claire and this is—" Wesker stepped in front of her and began speaking to the man in Swahili. Claire didn't know what they were saying, but Wesker motioned to the pack on his back. _There's definitely something in there besides my suppressant and Dr. Obilade's journal._ Whatever Wesker had said to the man gained them access to his home, and he invited them in to sit at the only table there.

Inside the home was cool, which felt fantastic on Claire's skin that was probably by now burnt to a crisp. She dreaded the pain that would come later. Curtains that looked like quilts, and probably were, hung loosely over the windows. Jugs meant for collecting water lined the hallway to the kitchen which was connected to the only bedroom in the house. The floor was a uniform, moist clay, much like the rest of the house. When offered, Claire took a seat at what looked like homemade chairs and table set, but Wesker stood. He unzipped the bag, the girl with the auburn hair glued her eyes to its toothed opening, wanting to finally see what she'd though she'd imagined hearing knocking around in there. When he finally pulled it out; it was a bone or a tusk of some kind. Realization smacked Claire in the face. She wanted to shoot him as many times as she desired and watch as his body painfully healed itself over and over again.

The host made an approving sound and grabbed for the ivory which lay at Wesker's hand on the table. The man then motioned for both of them to follow him. He guided the pair to the back of his home where they exited through the rear door. Claire tried to get a look around both of the men who were standing in the way, blocking her view, chattering in a language she couldn't understand. Peeved about the deal she knew the tyrant had discussed with the village chief, and the simple fact that they wouldn't get out of her way so she could see what the Tanzanian was pointing at, Claire shoved past Wesker, bumping him in the shoulder as hard as she could. She dared him to do something in return.

A horse grazed before them, snorting as it munched away at the ground.

"You've got to be kidding me," she said, gawking at the stallion.

Ivory must have been a very valuable trade even in a country where it was easily accessible. Because the man not only gave them a horse, but he fitted it with a saddle and bridle as well, while also making sure the pack and a jug of water were fastened to the it. Wesker put his foot in the stirrup and climbed on in front of Claire who sat rock solid with her arms crossed, fuming. Whether Wesker had lied to the village chief and just stole the ivory or if he had planned on handing her over if she became too uncompliant, didn't matter. Wesker was an asshole.

"Come now, dear heart. You'll fall off." Something told her he knew what was up.

"I'd rather."

"Suit yourself," he said with a smirk, using the bridle to turn the horse in the right direction. Without warning he made the steed bolt like a cat under an overturned laundry basket. Before falling off backwards, Claire clasped her arms around Wesker. They would reach the coast in a couple of hours.

* * *

><p>Okay, so first…don't judge for using a line from an overplayed song. It just fit Wesker's description so well, don't you think?<p>

And second, I'm going into my last semester of my senior year. I have a lot to do, including a 30 page senior paper, so I'm sorry to the people who take the time to read and enjoy my story, but it may be a few months before I'm able to post a new chapter.

Next time we can expect to have some more Claire/Wesker, along with a few others. These two may have a run in with a little someone.

Thank you everyone for reading. I wish I were a better writer, there are times where I feel like I'm overly boring you all. I still accept CC. I wouldn't have imagined I'd get this many views, favorites, or anything. I always get excited when I reach a new whole number whether it be in reviews or views. You all make it worth finishing instead of leaving it a fantasy up in my head X


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